After mild humiliation yesterday, I changed my clothes and decided I'd better brave the rain and walk to the market. We try to buy meat from the butcher there every week, because it's very cheap and means we don't have to buy rubbish, expensive meat from the supermarket. It's about two and a bit miles from the flat.
If I was going to brave the rain, I didn't want to get wet feet. I own many pairs of mind-numbingly beautiful shoes, but not one is waterproof. I own two pairs of boots that are mostly waterproof. One needs re-heeling, so I couldn't wear those.
The other pair is ever so slightly ridiculous. Also brilliant. They are viking boots, existed long before Uggs were cool and are basically here to stomp all over them. If my boots were a man, they'd be Chuck Norris, only beautiful. If Uggs were men, they'd sing for My Chemical Romance.
They are heeled (though not stilletto) black leather with fur which folds over the top of leather between my ankle and just below the knee. The fur is held in place with buckles. This never quite works because vikings have chunkier calves than me, but this does not ruin the look.
Until yesterday, I had not worn them for two years.
My outfit was carefully selected to keep me warm and dry without making me look like a mountaineer or a farmer's wife and I was ready to go. I'd made it about a mile before my toes started hurting. Secretly, I had always known this would happen.
The boots don't rub, they're not even terribly high, but if you walk in heels of even a slightly different height to those which you are used to, your feet will complain. Anyone enthusiastic about shoes knows this is worth working through. When you get home, you take them off, give yourself a quick footrub and pad around in flats for the rest of the day. You don't wear the heels for a week, and when you do, it hurts less.
Sometimes you need to repeat this a few times, but eventually, you will win. The prize for conquering the heels is being able to wear them pain free whenever you want. If you really love them, you'll do it.
Unfortunately, I had another mile to walk, and two miles to walk back when I got to the market. By the time I got there my usual swift stride had dropped to the pace of someone slowly and casually browsing shop windows. I could not persuade my legs to move me any faster.
I made my purchases, and set off home. Slowly. In the end I gave in and got the subway. A random guy complimented me on my footwear and I even managed a smile. It was still worth it.
Finally I got back, removed the boots. Stood up and immediately collapsed. My own dumb fault. Got back up, hobbled carefully to the bathroom and bathed my feet in cool water. I assessed for blisters, a few very small ones, nothing to worry about. I put on a big pair of fluffy socks and my old comfy trainers.
This enabled me to walk again. Very slowly. I had been reduced to old lady speeds. Very annoying when you want to get things done. Only my feet were unable to move quickly - meaning it would take me a full minute to get from the kitchen to my bedroom, but only a few seconds to complete a task there. Rubbish.
I remembered there was a cane in the umbrella stand. Less rubbish.
My feet are better this morning, still sore, but I can walk like someone who isn't in their 80's now. I have, however, discovered that I will make and extremely efficient and vicious old person. I suspect I'll need a little practice, though. Who wants to come stand in the queue at the post office?
Showing posts with label shoes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shoes. Show all posts
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Uggh
Warning: Mini-rant.
It's a fifteen minute walk from my flat to the physics building at uni. Last time I did it, I noticed something, so I started counting.
It's still only September. It is not OK for me to have been able to count 35 pairs of Ugg boots* teamed with skinny jeans. That's completely out of proportion with the way things should be. Because I was there, I also feel completely justified in saying that everyone wearing this combination was a student. Once upon a time being a "student" implied not only that you had some intelligence, but also some taste. Guess that's not the case any more.
Y'know, I don't even hate Ugg boots. I used to, but now I understand; they're actually exactly the kind of fashion I wanted to start happening. They're not screaming "penetrate me now" as a person slightly more vulgar than I pointed out (doesn't count as being vulgar if you're quoting), but they're also not completely hideous. They actually score neutral on the aesthetics front.
This matters little by itself. Clogs score neutral for goodness sake, but that doesn't make people pay over £100 a pair for them, nor does it make them wear them incessantly, nor does it make them fashionable. What works for Uggs has to be teamed with the neutral appearance: They are incredibly comfortable. Incidentally, Crocs failed for a different reason - apparently quite comfortable, but completely foul to look at.
This is actually from having worn fake Uggs. Any student who pays for full price Uggs whilst on a normal student budget should not have got onto their course on account of being an idiot.
Back to the thirty-five pairs I saw. It's not acceptable, I won't accept it. So I'll give a guideline for anyone who's too stupid to be sure of what to do. This is, after all, a slightly contradictory rant if you're IQ dropped a few points after that terrible accident. Or if you're a twat.
I won't be a bitch to you (about your Ugg boot - skinny jean combo) if you don't wear them until October 20th. Yes, even if you're living in Glasgow - this isn't the god damned North Pole. Get over it. Wear a scarf or something.
If you fail to do this I will not give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you don't have any other shoes. I will instead assume that you are a waste of human flesh that could be put to better use in a Matrix-style pod, providing renewable power for the rest of us.
When I get my degree, I'm totally going to develop those pods.
*This includes a pair of male Uggs, or Muggs as I shall be wittily calling them from now on. Not sure how I feel about Muggs, but it's definitely not a good feeling.
It's a fifteen minute walk from my flat to the physics building at uni. Last time I did it, I noticed something, so I started counting.
It's still only September. It is not OK for me to have been able to count 35 pairs of Ugg boots* teamed with skinny jeans. That's completely out of proportion with the way things should be. Because I was there, I also feel completely justified in saying that everyone wearing this combination was a student. Once upon a time being a "student" implied not only that you had some intelligence, but also some taste. Guess that's not the case any more.
Y'know, I don't even hate Ugg boots. I used to, but now I understand; they're actually exactly the kind of fashion I wanted to start happening. They're not screaming "penetrate me now" as a person slightly more vulgar than I pointed out (doesn't count as being vulgar if you're quoting), but they're also not completely hideous. They actually score neutral on the aesthetics front.
This matters little by itself. Clogs score neutral for goodness sake, but that doesn't make people pay over £100 a pair for them, nor does it make them wear them incessantly, nor does it make them fashionable. What works for Uggs has to be teamed with the neutral appearance: They are incredibly comfortable. Incidentally, Crocs failed for a different reason - apparently quite comfortable, but completely foul to look at.
This is actually from having worn fake Uggs. Any student who pays for full price Uggs whilst on a normal student budget should not have got onto their course on account of being an idiot.
Back to the thirty-five pairs I saw. It's not acceptable, I won't accept it. So I'll give a guideline for anyone who's too stupid to be sure of what to do. This is, after all, a slightly contradictory rant if you're IQ dropped a few points after that terrible accident. Or if you're a twat.
I won't be a bitch to you (about your Ugg boot - skinny jean combo) if you don't wear them until October 20th. Yes, even if you're living in Glasgow - this isn't the god damned North Pole. Get over it. Wear a scarf or something.
If you fail to do this I will not give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you don't have any other shoes. I will instead assume that you are a waste of human flesh that could be put to better use in a Matrix-style pod, providing renewable power for the rest of us.
When I get my degree, I'm totally going to develop those pods.
*This includes a pair of male Uggs, or Muggs as I shall be wittily calling them from now on. Not sure how I feel about Muggs, but it's definitely not a good feeling.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Caffeine
I am a tea drinker. I enjoy coffee, but it makes the buzzing in my head a little too loud. Shortly after a cup of coffee I need a glass of red wine just to even things out.
It also makes me talk too quickly. I already speak too quickly for some people, I put this down to them thinking too slowly, but really, who am I to judge? It seems a fair assumption, but I haven't actually done any tests yet. Either way, it's very inconsiderate of me to drink coffee if there's a chance I'll have to speak with someone who can't keep up in the next hour.
Caffeine pills are even worse. I took a couple last Summer because I was tired and needed to work. I'd had a cup of tea and it had only made me feel warm. I had a coffee (with vanilla in it, can't drink it without) and it had only made me feel warmer. I had a couple of pro-plus. Ten minutes later my heartbeat matched the bass on whichever Chemical Brothers song I chose to play.
Amusing, but also kind of scary. I was too on edge to work and instead cleaned the whole flat and cataloged my DVDs. It's a mistake I won't make again, I prefer my DVDs messy and random, the good ones stand out better that way.
Today I stopped in Starbucks for a mocha. I refuse to use their sizing system, and ordered a "small." The girl said, "you mean tall?" I said, "No."
Fortunately she took the hint, or I would've had to point out that she was being pedantic about a pseudo-Italian sizing system in an ugly Glaswegian accent. That would have been mean. I'm not allowed to be mean to people in Starbucks because of the Incident.
The coffee was good, but after it I couldn't concentrate. I was trying to buy silver shoes, but I couldn't focus. I saw nothing I wanted. At first I was inclined to put this down to some kind of horrible depression, but then I realised it was just the caffeine confusing me.
I'll never drink coffee again.
Interestingly, you apparently need 12 cups of tea before you start hallucinating. I'm up for trying that out, but I need volunteers to make sure I don't try to slice my veins out of my arms, or take flight out of my window. Anyone? Anyone at all?
It also makes me talk too quickly. I already speak too quickly for some people, I put this down to them thinking too slowly, but really, who am I to judge? It seems a fair assumption, but I haven't actually done any tests yet. Either way, it's very inconsiderate of me to drink coffee if there's a chance I'll have to speak with someone who can't keep up in the next hour.
Caffeine pills are even worse. I took a couple last Summer because I was tired and needed to work. I'd had a cup of tea and it had only made me feel warm. I had a coffee (with vanilla in it, can't drink it without) and it had only made me feel warmer. I had a couple of pro-plus. Ten minutes later my heartbeat matched the bass on whichever Chemical Brothers song I chose to play.
Amusing, but also kind of scary. I was too on edge to work and instead cleaned the whole flat and cataloged my DVDs. It's a mistake I won't make again, I prefer my DVDs messy and random, the good ones stand out better that way.
Today I stopped in Starbucks for a mocha. I refuse to use their sizing system, and ordered a "small." The girl said, "you mean tall?" I said, "No."
Fortunately she took the hint, or I would've had to point out that she was being pedantic about a pseudo-Italian sizing system in an ugly Glaswegian accent. That would have been mean. I'm not allowed to be mean to people in Starbucks because of the Incident.
The coffee was good, but after it I couldn't concentrate. I was trying to buy silver shoes, but I couldn't focus. I saw nothing I wanted. At first I was inclined to put this down to some kind of horrible depression, but then I realised it was just the caffeine confusing me.
I'll never drink coffee again.
Interestingly, you apparently need 12 cups of tea before you start hallucinating. I'm up for trying that out, but I need volunteers to make sure I don't try to slice my veins out of my arms, or take flight out of my window. Anyone? Anyone at all?
Monday, January 26, 2009
Motivation
I am an easily entertained person. The sort of person who notices shiny things before anyone else notices (that or no one cares about shiny things as much as I do). I am also easily distracted, though if all possibility of shoe shopping is removed from a situation my attention span can be formidable.
I should point out that a) this has never happened, and b) shoe shopping is the exception that proves the rule. I have to shop alone, no one I know has the stamina.
Naturally this means I have a talent for procrastination. I've mentioned it before, so you know I really mean it. This combined with my limitless creativity means that I can always find something more interesting to do than the task at hand. Even if that task is my maths homework four hours before the tutorial. Actually, that's an easy one, my tutorials are at 10am, the best thing to do at 6am is sleep.
People confuse this with a lack of motivation. I disagree, I have too much motivation, which is why I want to do so many things that aren't my maths homework. Surely this is the kind of wonderful logic that brought me to the sciences in the first place?
I was discussing my lack of work with Euan, and he said that the carrot method doesn't work for me because I can always find a better carrot. This is true, but he's misspelling it. Instead, he thinks someone has to be a bastard to me until I get some work done. He has volunteered, because he's thoughtful like that.
Today however I have found myself full of motivation. You'd think it was because of exam result if you didn't know that I haven't been given them yet. You'd think it's because of my super-intelligent new tutor if you didn't know I actually find her a little intimidating. You'd think it's because I've just turned 20 and I'm afraid of wasting my life if you didn't know... me.
The fact is I've no idea why it's occurred. I think it might have something to do with a certain 2nd-hand book shop, but that's because that's all I can remember from my dreams last night. If I work out what's causing it, I'm going to distill it, bottle it and sell it to large companies. I'll make millions. Watch this space.
I should point out that a) this has never happened, and b) shoe shopping is the exception that proves the rule. I have to shop alone, no one I know has the stamina.
Naturally this means I have a talent for procrastination. I've mentioned it before, so you know I really mean it. This combined with my limitless creativity means that I can always find something more interesting to do than the task at hand. Even if that task is my maths homework four hours before the tutorial. Actually, that's an easy one, my tutorials are at 10am, the best thing to do at 6am is sleep.
People confuse this with a lack of motivation. I disagree, I have too much motivation, which is why I want to do so many things that aren't my maths homework. Surely this is the kind of wonderful logic that brought me to the sciences in the first place?
I was discussing my lack of work with Euan, and he said that the carrot method doesn't work for me because I can always find a better carrot. This is true, but he's misspelling it. Instead, he thinks someone has to be a bastard to me until I get some work done. He has volunteered, because he's thoughtful like that.
Today however I have found myself full of motivation. You'd think it was because of exam result if you didn't know that I haven't been given them yet. You'd think it's because of my super-intelligent new tutor if you didn't know I actually find her a little intimidating. You'd think it's because I've just turned 20 and I'm afraid of wasting my life if you didn't know... me.
The fact is I've no idea why it's occurred. I think it might have something to do with a certain 2nd-hand book shop, but that's because that's all I can remember from my dreams last night. If I work out what's causing it, I'm going to distill it, bottle it and sell it to large companies. I'll make millions. Watch this space.
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