My Footwear is Accursed.

Sorry for the "accursed" but I have been reading The Other Boleyn Girl and my language has taken a decided turn to 1500s England. I no longer eat breakfast, but break my fast. So cool, music to the dieting girl's ears, I no longer sleep but fast from the hours of 10:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. Also, the English sure did like to use the word "cunny", as in "Wash your cunny, you slut." Forget va-jay jay, give me cunny any day. And so it goes, I now want to watch Showtime's The Tudors, and find a time machine. This is something that is constantly on my mind - time travel and that invention the guy in The Fly was trying to master. Travel Pods. Can you image? How awesome. But back to the shoes (pictured below),



I want to say that I really like these shoes, they being the Privo "Hop" in black. This is my second pair. The previous pair was not accursed, thus leading me to this purchase which will more than likely mean some sort of leg injury in the form of amputation because in the past two weeks I have had my left shoe caught in an escalator while carrying Owen and just today, while taking a step down from the curb, somehow trapped half my foot in the sewer grate. The escalator incident was memorable because earlier in the day there was an article on sfgate.com about a freak escalator accident. Note to self, when something such as escalator carnage tickles your fancy; be prepared to pay the ultimate sacrifice. I don't even know how it happened, I took a step, then another, and suddenly I was shoeless with a baby in the ergo about to take public transportation. After about thirty attempts by helpful San Franciscans trying to dislodge my very lodged shoe (and me thinking that I was actually going to have to go on Muni with no freaking shoe), some behemoth of a man used his hulk arm to save my shoe (and my chance at Hepatitis B). I thanked him only to see my shoe now had a big section of the sole flapping. "Gotta buy some new shoes" said this man to which I responded gleefully "Most definitely sir. Thanks!" But alas, I am cheap and having a sole flap is not going to land me in Glamour's What Not To Wear. But today as I stepped down off the curb getting half my foot stuck in a grate, I am thinking that perhaps these shoes are to die a quiet death because clumsy feet and accursed shoes will transform me into that seventy year old who takes off her left shoe to revel a mangle mess of a stump of which parents warn their children.