yesterday, on a hunt for new sneakers (why, asics, did you have to go and ruin a great shoe? new models suck.), i instead found a pair of black flats, ones that will neither help me traverse rocky trails near the Cascade Mountains nor chase the bus as i almost certainly arrive 30 seconds too late. at $60, these via spigas (i hugely heart this brand) were almost 70% off the retail price. as i tried them on and walked back and forth, todd said my feet looked like they were sprouting giant vajayjays, but this little quibble didn't bother me in the slightest. yet today, as i wear the shoes around the office, i'm thinking similar things. like how maybe a pink troll got squished while climbing mt. foot in search of higher ground. or how my toe cleavage could benefit from neutrogena's quality acne regime. or maybe a flock of flamingos used my foot as a commode.