I’m shopping online for hiking shoes, which are apparently a thing I need for my goddamn VACATION? Fucking nature people. 🙄
Anyway. Guess which hiking shoe I’m NOT buying?
Fuck you, you fucking “fashionable for ladies” fuckface. I don’t give a flying fuck if my fucking shoes are fucking fashionable!
…OK, fine, I totally care, but that’s not the MAIN thing I’m looking for. ASS. How ’bout you take your fashionable shoes for a hike up to Shut Fuck Mountain, jackass?
I told an OkCupid guy I’d gone to the Women’s Conference, and he wrote back asking what “the most inspiring takeaway” was.
The honest answers to this question are not suitable for the first few online dating messages.
1. No matter how crippling my imposter syndrome gets, I shouldn’t be afraid to speak, because chances are I’m NOT the stupidest person in a given room. (Though I still don’t believe that.)
2. We can put too much onto the ONE person in our paradigm of monogamous relationships, and it’s to be expected that we get different things from different people. I am not a slut or a bad person for getting those needs met, and I shouldn’t feel bad about it. (Though I still do.)
3. My knee-high black leather boots are better suited for your filthy sexual fantasies than for walking 6 miles at the Convention Center.
Normally I listen to standup comedy while I get ready for work, but I noticed the entire notion of “morning,” especially “rainy morning,” offers much less “fuck this shit” when I have music on. So today I put my iPod on shuffle and heard:
1. An Amy Winehouse song called “Amy Amy Amy” about dolling oneself up for a workplace flirtation…while I examined a pair of jeans I pulled from the hamper to make sure they weren’t the ones I dropped guacamole on the other day.
2. “The Thong Song,” while wearing llama-print hipster briefs.
3. “Hell on Heels,” flip flops.
I am basically sex on a stick, you guys. I don’t even know how y’all deal with me.
P.S. There was also “Shut Up and Drive” by Rihanna, which proclaims, “I got class like a ’57 Cadillac,” which…clearly, with the guacamole and the llamas and the $2 Old Navy flip flops. But also, “got all the drive and a whole lotta boom in the back,” which — pfft — is TOTALLY true.
Via Huffington Post: Adidas Shuts Down Homophobic Commenters In The Best Way Possible.
…Right, then.
So we’re all gonna go buy at least one pair of Adidas shoes?
Good. Glad we had this talk.
The HELL? My brain saw “super-cute shoes” on “feet.” Not on “gay feet.” How does that even cross your mind?
Also? They’re SHOES. On INSTAGRAM. How do you have time to give even ONE baker’s fuck about this? Or does “being an asshole on the Internet” now count as “doing God’s work?”
Bam. Look out, y’all. #HellOnHeels
(And, by “Look out,” obviously I mean, “Look out for me when I inevitably trip and fall.”) 
One more on last night’s yoga class:
It was all women in the class, and at one point the instructor had us rotate our ankles, because “a lot of your acupressure points for hormonal issues are in your ankles. Makes sense, doesn’t it? No wonder we have those issues, men make us wear those high heels!”
Ahem.
1. You don’t even wear high heels, Hippie, I can tell. You wear Birkenstocks if you wear shoes at all. You just walk around on a groovy hemp-based cloud.
2. No man has ever MADE me wear anything. I wear heels because I’m 2 feet tall and chubby, so if and when I CHOOSE put on heels, I’m taller, and my legs and ass look AMAZING, and they add bonus sway to my Olivia Pope strut. Do I wear heels to attract men by tricking them into thinking I’m sexy? Absolutely. But they don’t MAKE me. (And yeah, I know I’ve been raised by male-controlled media to think all this is true, but…I mean, it’s true. Heels make me feel sexy and bad-ass. Blow me, Birkenstock.)
3. Ever leave heels on for a guy? That right there is how you get pancakes after.
#HellOnHeels
Smug Singleton 