An open letter to ugly shoes
by,
Kim DeFranco
Dear Crocks,
Next to Birkenstocks no shoe wants to make me vomit, simply by looking at you, more than YOU! You are an imperialist ambassador to ugly. I can't for the life of me in this world figure out why anybody would pay hard earned money to slip their fashionably abused feet into the easy slip on soul of your holey Vamp. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ShoesParts_of_a_shoe
As an American I am insulted that you were invented in my country as clearly you are more representative to a far more mollycoddle country like France or Switzerland. You have brought absolute gayity to full families who strut them in public with pride but believe they're all unique because they are wearing different colors. You hail from what I would once consider a beautiful place but is now filled with ugly and hippies.
You should be charged with crimes off terror with your one strap ease and breathable style. What makes you think I want to smell people's feet wafting towards my nose this easily!? When I see grown men wearing crocks it verifies that I have less of a chance of ever falling in love again.
The smart ones here??? The elevators! For they have started a revolution that I will join! We will squash you!
By the way of the sword,
Kim
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To join the revolution click here! (ok, I lied; not yet)
Now my job, I love it. I work 8-5 for a company that does integrated handling solutions and design. In short, they sell forklifts and forklift accessories. They also have a team of engineers that designs how warehouses should be set up then they build it too. It's awesome. Everyday is like an episode of the office. Most of my furious note collecting starts here.
Character 1 (a manager of the rental dept.) he's in his 50's but thinks that the young girls like him. He has the smallest finger nails(which we call niblets) because he chews them incessantly and saves and resuses whattaburger cups. He only eats whattaburger and occasionanally mcdonalds.
Character 2 (rental supervisor) she's all kinds of country with a super thick accent that often causes confusion, she eats squirrel and often uses phrases like "if he can't speak English he probably can't read it either!" or "just another day in paradise." If it weren't for sitting close to her and being able to hear her interactions, I might go insane. This woman tells some of the best stories I've ever heard. These include her family reunion, the fact she calls her cousin Harold, Harod(hayrod) because he once carved his name in a tree and forgot the "L" and how her lawyer, during her divorce, went to jail for drugs, burglary and other things and will be out in 2008. Here is his prison personal ad. Not only is that hot but I can be entertained for hours by this site. http://www.thepamperedprisoner.com/ts.htm
Character 3 (marketing director and one of my bosses) you have no idea how thrilled I am in this lifetime to have a boss with the last name Craghead. It's amazing. You will never spot him without a monster energy drink in his hand and throwing out sayings such as "this ain't his first rodeo" or "it's like a monkey fucking a football." (the later of course to describe what some of you would call a bumblefuck, a shit show, a fuck all or perhaps a mess) they all count. When he says most things he then explains them to me. I think he thinks I'm 20 or something. He thinks he's really hot, never wears a wedding ring even though he's married and talks about his daughter but never his wife. He like most, when wanting to verbally address me, will bark out "DeFranco!"
Character 4 (director of customer development)- mellow, lover of the music. Easy. Sometimes we waste hours looking at what shows are coming to town, recanting show stories and listening to the ipod.
Characters- 5-17 (salesmen)- most have never left Texas, they still wear their college class rings no matter how long they've graduated for now (big ass ones with a star or state of tx b/c there is nowhere else) and they eat bar food and compliment the youngest girl in the office's outfits everyday.
Characters ?-? (technicians)- they are crass and like beer. We get along.
I could go on and on but let me just get on with it…this cast also includes but is not limited to the old lady who recants her days of "smoking grass" and driving stick shift and frequently loudly proclaims "holy shit!", the ultimate fighter guy (no joke, he will kill you), the ultra girly lady who is always pooping or farting in the bathroom and the old guy who I almost ran over once who introduced me to himself by boasting new arch supports.
Anyway, everyone who works here loves it and most people have been here for several, several years. I like it a lot. Some of my favorite office quotes(we are in a cubicle farm and if you don't overhear people, usually they just yell blindly to communicate with others in the office) include:
"oh lorh"
"have you ever had beaver milk??"
"I'm trying to pull a rabbit out of a hat and his butt's stuck"
"I'm so dyslexic I should be shot."
"yeah, dallas is 4 minutes ahead of Houston because we roll like that!"
"fixin' to" and "rot"—this is how they say "right"
"man that guy is an ass-whip!"
Now dating. In addition to my now homeless, homosexual former suitor I found another good one. My friend Allison and I wend to Duke's Roadhouse for a good time. Lot's of harley's and loud rock n' roll. It works. A chatting we a were and this guy approaches me and asks if there are any live music venues around which as you can lead sparks into a cool conversation. He leaves the convo by saying, "me and my friend are sitting over here if you guys want to join us."
Allison's engaged ass pressures me to go over there as apparently she is dying for me so suffer through an engagement too. Well, he was cute so eventually we went over and joined them. they were from about 4 hours away and were in town on business. If anything I felt cool saying "I know a sideways driller."
The night goes on, we have a great conversation and a blast and he picks up our tab. He and his friend walk us to the car where he gives us cards and says "we're in town until Wednesday if you want to do something." (this was Sunday night/Monday morning) a little over a week had passed and Allison asked if I called "no I said, he lives in midland) finally she convinced me to e-mail him. I did. No response until a few days later. Nothing like waking up Saturday morning to an e-mail from HIS WIFE!
*before you ask any dumbass questions I'll clear them up. NO, he was not wearing a wedding ring, NO, he did not even at all mention he was in a relationship and surely didn't mention a wife.
"Hi, I noticed you e-mailed my husband a couple of days ago and you met at a place called Duke's Roadhouse. I just wanted to see if my husband was acting like a husband." I responded "yes, your husband and his friend were perfect gentlemen. We talked about music and had a good time. You have nothing to worry about." (I am NOT getting involved in people's retarded lives) her response back went something like "thank you for letting me know. We've had major problems with him in the past not wearing his ring if you know what I mean."
*****ding ding bitch! Also, next time ask you're fucking husband why some random girl is emailing him.
Anyway, I made an art piece out of his business card. Please see below.
End scene and roll credits to JT's "what goes around."
I've been soul searching lately and made a list of things I hate…these things include
Most people
Running out of tp or papertowels
Wearing Underwear
Going to the mall
The umbrella song(stick it up your ass ELLA!)
Terrible spellers
"if you don't send to *enter number here* people" emails
Microsoft systems
Having to poop in public
Wearing heels almost daily and dressing up
Not having a washer/dryer in my home yet
The food at bennigan's
Christmas
Planning to see my family
Adults who do not control their children and their children
*This moment was brought to you in realtime
I know I have passed on work, but being as I'm working on this right now…the president of the company happened to come into my newly decorated cube. My decorations consist of the critiqued children's artwork from the following maddux link. "who wrote these commentaries?" he said, oh they came that way on the email I said. "holy shit I almost had a seizure…ding dong, here comes the shit mobile? HE SAID! What the hell is that?" this classic moment was brought to you by the letter Kim. He then scheduled a meeting with myself and the CEO. I'm good.
NOW…what he was referring to is Maddux's "I am better than your kids." If you are not familiar with this shame on you and welcome to the wonderful world of Maddux. This piece may be one of the single most funny things I could possibly ever see before I die.
I Am Better Than Your Kids
I called today to try and see how much a church costs. The original St. Francis Desales I attended as a child is for sale in the middle of town. What better a spot for a bar?! We could call it St. Kim Desales or Confessions or the pill or our fathers or…can't tell this next actually…or you'll try and beat me to the punch. This is my new dream. Dreams are places for your soul to die. For this reason alone what better than a former house of guilt. Catholicism rules!
I'm currently sitting on a small American airlines plane on the way back from my friend Doo Doo's(who now teaches at my old high school) wedding. She is my oldest friend. We have known each other through good and bad and good again. From the beginning we have pretty much been pioneers. We started in kindergarten making potions that could do things such as make you fly. These potions consisted of grooming and cleaning products mainly. We also mainly tried to test them on her bitchy older sister who wouldn't ever drink them. We moved on from black magic to making rivers by use of digging and her parent's garden hose. The reason we had to create this river was due to the sheer luck and historical finding we had encountered previous to the construction. We found a "half dug out Indian canoe." This is the exact name we came up for what was really a mostly rotted fallen tree. We were definitely going to finish carving this canoe and take it down the Hamilton river though. That's for damn sure. Here's third grade…
The wedding was fun. Pretty. Mellow. Fall. Dry.
My date Danny and I met sure to make the best out of that last part with him getting plenty of lemonade refills and me getting the right part per total with the vodka. There were also trips to the car for beer chugging. This was also the first wedding I've been to where the food was pulled out with a john deere tractor and there were port-o-potties for the guests. Yes. That's what I said.
We also talked to my 9th grade English teacher who really wouldn't shut the fuck up. Danny's dumb polite ass helped drag on that conversation. I guess not as many people hate me as I thought did after all, I never can tell. It's easiest to pretend I'm hated by the world. That way if I encounter kindness, it makes me feel better. Regardless, it was fun and I'm sure at some point I made an ass of myself but I just really don't fucking care to be quite honest with you. I've got better things to be self conscious about like my cupcake or if anyone on this plane is going to know that was me that farted.
This trip brought a multitude of goodness and the usual depression I suffer when I go home. I was reunited with my drummer from Arnica(the first band we ever had who's name was found by literally going through the good book---yes, the dictionary), Bill. This was amazing. I wish so much I lived closer to him to share art and make fun of fat people and ugly shoes. He and Jonathan and Cami were so fun. Fun like firecrackers and jewish holidays.
My dad also rifled off his usual mixed up adages. My sister and I were laughing at him at dinner to which he promptly responded "HEY! Quit disking me!" as we laughed harder he corrected himself with "I mean dishing me!" Classic. He also inquired about the song on the radio saying "that was
Hungarian Rhapsody right?" need I say more? Awesome.
Read this next paragraph while listening to "Fallin'" by Teenage Fanclub and De La Soul
To sum the rest of it up…my sister gave me a "trim" now my hair is above my shoulders. I have mom hair. We all argued about xmas and my future so here I sit feeling like there is a truck parked on my chest. Goddamn I get bothered when I go home. Without the sauce I'd never make it through. I also never truly realized how much my mother's driving makes me physically ill. She's terrible. I almost threw up several times. It's kind of like riding with a tourette's stricken little person who has restless leg syndrome.
In conclusion, I have endured another wedding, another trip home and another haircut like the one I had in 7th grade. I need some coffee and muscle relaxers….oh! maybe some chocolate milk. That always makes me feel better.
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