A little game we call ‘I Never’.

Work finds itself a little slow today. It seems when corporate activities leave me at a lull I never know where to turn. I often wonder if the best use of my time is posting. And you could probably tell by the time in which I post I am not one to fodder mid-afternoon while restlessly looking for entertainment behind this horrid PC screen. I giggle with coworkers over the daily celeb gossip and look to achieve greatness in my Access Report abilities, and realize that when Renee starts singing ‘Roll Out The Barrel’ the day’s kookiness has begun. Which leads me to think, just as Whitney has never said “Crack is Wack”, I would never ever partake in a round of ‘Islands in the Stream’ to prove I am versed in the great Kenny & Dolly. The shame of it all.

I never will admit my follies. So you will have nothing to blackmail me with. I will not publicly goof like Tara Reid, nipple slip and demand that my stupidity makes “Jessica Simpson look like a rock scientist”. Stop laughing and start crying because I KNOW I’m never funny.

I never wore Crocs. Don’t laugh and don’t tell anyone either, but it’s true. I never wore Crocs! My mom said they were ok for ‘garden wear’. I figured one slip-on to dash through the garage was no crime. My feet still feel the green foam encompassing them, and emotionally beat me for the fashion shame. Oh how they sweat in that non-breathable foam-resin. How they longed to be set free! Crocs will never live in my home. Unless my mother moves in.

I never said I like Britney Spears either! So there! Once back in 1999 there was a girl who pleaded ‘Hit Me Baby, One More Time’ and baby, she was definitely hit. Now come closer kids, because the story is just getting good. Britney was a sweet innocent little tart. She traveled the world to “oversees places like Canada”, and Japan where they eat the fish (”which is very popular out there in Africa”). Yes, she grew up a good girl. She never flashed her jewels to paparazzi eyes. The good motherly love of Mama Spears must have raised Britney right. She too would grow up to be a wonderful doting mother. And just like any good mother, sweet B would never tell her children they were “mistakes”. I am sure Mama Spears feels good knowing Jamie-Lynn is following in big sissys footsteps.

I never thought this blog would end up being a celebrity bash fest and realize that as I waste time reading goof-ups of the Spears gals I have little time to blog-on, therefore this little game of ‘I Never’ comes to a pause. Perhaps soon we can pick up where we left off.

Take note to my most drab but very straight forward title. I want to bring to mind that it is very important to me that you know EXACTLY what my fodder of the day is, as it holds much importance in well . . . everything! Fashion is the key to unlock the gates of Heaven, I am convinced! A healthy statement with a trendy pair of shoes simply glows of Heaven and makes you warm and fuzzy inside. The aura of good intentions overwhelms you and you can’t help but smile at the site of brown properly mixed with black. Which believe me when I say it’s tricky and should be left to the masters. In the beauty of fashion I find my will to crack a smile today, at the site of all that is good and brought down from Heaven by God himself. Thank God for House of Holland or life as we know it would be forever drab.

With that I bring you the light at the end of the tunnel. A hope for years to come, and just three simple words, our reason to live, Paris Fashion Week.

Ever since I was a wee tot I have taken note of what happens ankles and below. From the days I walked daintily on my tip toes (I think secretly hoping to elongate my legs something I still do as I rise above with the biggest shoes I can find), to my ballet dancing days. To my love of Barbie’s petite little heeled toes, to pedicures, and pride in my high arches, and now with my desire to permanently ink my favorite appendage to accessorize, I take note in what we all decide is trend. What choices we make, and how we mix and match. How we seek comfort or disregard comfort for fashion. Something I often do and will probably regret when my feet are mushed up like Cinderella’s step sisters 20 years from now, and all I can wear are Crocs. And this brings me to another point as I ponder if I would ever put my fat deformed foot into a Croc when the day arrives that my bunions are too big for Stilettos. My answer, “NO NO and Triple NO! No Infinite.” I shall wear slippers for an eternity if needs be but Crocs are still a serious faux pas.

This blog became vision with one subtle email move from my brother. With this little piece of treasure I find once again that ‘The World Is Full Of Stupid People’ and sometimes I just kinda want to blog about it. Crocs seem to be cause of the World’s demise. As Crocs rise the anger of fashion fans everywhere inceases. Will there be war? Fashion Victim vs. Fashion Maven.

However this blog is not about Crocs, although I seem to be moving that direction with every key stroke. So with the change of subject I bring you bad foot happenings.