I spent the night cyber-ing. Will spare y’all IRs (imaginary readers) the intimate details of that encounter. And if you persist, I will get into such graphic details that y’all will get disgusted and never return. Anyway, the point of that dramatic opening statement being, I want readership and the book contract. And I will stoop to any level for it, including sleaze and fantasies. And doesn’t that make my life sound infinitely more exciting than my struggles with insomnia?
Anyway, one has decided on a nickname for the Other Author of this blog. He is Harry Bradshaw (HB). He could have been Hairy Bradshaw but for the drastic decision he made a year ago.
The other author has taken to the blog well. Two seconds after I wrote my previous post, he commented on it. And then we called each other and giggled. It was sinful. It was delicious. And then he posted his shoe post, and I read it 3 mins after he posted it. But didn’t comment right then because I was still awake and I didn’t want to create the impression of not having a life.
But seriously, shoes are a good thing to talk about. I will now put my $0.02 on the matter (0.54209028Rs. at the prevailing exchange rate): I look at men’s shoes all the time. No, not because the shoe size is directly proportional to you-know-what, but because “You can always spot a gentleman by the shoes he wears”. And I am judgmental, especially about cracked and dirty feet. I wonder why men who wear socks all the time still get dirty feet, and mud stuck under the toenails. Eww.
And then there software engineers freshly returned from the US. They are fashion disasters. They wear sneakers with trousers. And floaters with socks. And floaters without socks, and dirty feet. Arrgh.
Whatever PETA activists say, nothing like a man wearing patent leather shoes. And yes, the shinier the better.
