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April 25, 2005

Shoes

I decided to treat myself to a rather expensive pair of shoes on Sunday. Now I can justify this. Unlike women in general, I will wear the same pair of shoes to work and for going out, a sound investment. Now, shopping to me is simple. See something you like, don’t try it on, just buy it and get out of there. I know my shoe size, I know what I like and I know what time the car park ticket expires and how long it will take to get back. Who ever invented the term ‘Window Shopping’? I mean you go to the shops, find something you like and then, well you just depress yourself because you can’t afford it. Great. Temptation. Anticipation. Commiseration.

So what was the result of my instinctive five minute shoe shopping escapade? Well as nice as the shoes are, I failed to spot that the soles are like glass. Great if I want to go skating on icy lakes, not bad for taking unwanted dog shit off your shoes and quite fun for sliding around on the carpets at home, but shit for walking around work gracefully.

Now you can tell a lot about people by their shoes so they say, to the point where even a manager at work hires on the basis of good shoes. So my subtle attempt to impress the top brass and ladies at work failed miserably. Sliding around the carpeted office floors with spilling cups of coffee in your hand doesn’t look graceful.

Nearly as graceful as when I say ‘oh fuck’ when touching the metal handrails, not only do my new shoes make me out to be Bambi on Ice, they are a mini power station for creating static electricity. Nice.

Maybe it's not all that bad. A sliding, statically charged employee moving around the building. Oh, I forgot. The soles are so hardcore that they sound like clogs, they produce the sort out sound that women make in high heels make. I suppose it does have it's advantages, warning people that you are there when you want to over take them in the corridor. They also act as a great indicator signal, bending the sound around the walls to alert people I'm there so I don't collide with coffee carrying, folder holding, scared looking people like I do most days.

Then again, maybe there is a reason why women spend hours in one shop and not five minutes like I do, maybe they iron out all these problems at the time, looking in the mirror, analysing the clunking sounds, doing sliding tests and testing the static production rate. Or maybe they just like trying things on too much, I will never know, and will probably never understand. But that's what I like about women.

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