'the adventures of a thirty-ish university graduate' or, alternately and perhaps much more aptly: 'as mad as a barking fox'

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

i don't believe in prophecies so don't waste any tears

"i was raised catholic."

i believe that this statement can tell you a lot about a person- mainly that he or she has this weird sense of guilt. it may not be obvious even to the person, but it's there, buried in the subconscious of the proclaimed catholic. why? because we're all evil. evil people who are led into temptation.

"lead us not into temptation...but deliver us from evil..." -alas, i have been tempted and led father than any good catholic girl should be. and i most certainly was not delivered of anything but money. damn.

the temptation started when i was a wee child. well, not wee per se, because i've never been a small person. my mom swears that i should have been two people and her doctor thought i was twins, but that's beside the point. when i was a young lass, i had this fascination with barbies [they were the only dolls i ever played with, besides those freaky-arsed trolls with the mulit-coloured rainbow hair]. one year for christmas i got a barbie variety pack- clothes and hats and shoes. eighteen pairs of barbie shoes. and admidst those shoes were a pair of black boots that would change my life forever.

on barbie, the boots went to just below her knee. the detail on them was crap but you could tell that they were not just any boots, but serious don't-fuck-with-me-mother-fucker boots. lace up, with round eye hole detail boots. i eventually lost poor barbie's version, but i told myself that one day, i'd have boots like that.

years passed. i got bigger, and taller, but looked nothing like barbie.

and then one day whilst shopping with my marmee i remembered barbie and her boots. unfortunately, style that year dictated that lace-up fuck-you-mother-fucker boots were to only be for those who were afraid to walk in snow, so all i got were a pair of crappy ankle boots that weren't so mother-fucking after all.

the next year passed in much the same way. as did the year after that and the year after that. the following year was frought with disappontment as barbie style boots were everywhere but never in my size. [it's a ten, in case you were wondering. which is bigger than you think. the average canadian female has a size seven foot. damn size seven.]

in my final year of high school a ray of hope shone dimly, and then died as every boot everywhere that was not stupid and short and yet big enough for my foot was not lace up, but rather ugly and solid. i bought a pair, and gave up on my dream.

until last week when i was in walmart, and saw them. they were the same boots that my barbie had when i was a not-so-wee lass. big, black, lace-up don't-fuck-with-me-mother-fucker boots. and so it came about that i was led into temptation.

and not delivered from evil.

i am now the proud owner of knee high, black, round eye hole lace-up don't-fuck-with-me-mother-fucker barbie boots. they're a size smaller than i would have liked, but they'll do. i just have to break them in.

don't fuck with me, mother fucker.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

i think i saw a prostitue in vanier with those exact same boots. coincidence?


Blogger melissa... said...

i think i just fell in love with pleather all over again.. i mean, ahem.. i think i just for the first time.. yes, first time, fell in love with pleather.

you're so stinking hot it makes me sick.


Blogger meg said...

a stinking hot hoor, that's me.

pour some sugar on meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.



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