My Favorite Flats

So, if you've ever been to NYC, you know we often have piles of trash all along the sidewalk- this is not because we are filthy and disgusting, we don't have alleys like you all do! Where the heck else are we supposed to put it for the Trash Men? Here is some trash. See? My pretty tree-lined street (with trash, and yes, that is a toilet). Nice.



Anyway, I was on my way to my friend Heather's last week, and I was wearing my favorite flats. Well, they almost saw their patent leather life cut tragically, and unnecessarily short! I was about to cross the street to Heather's apartment. I was standing on the curb, (well actually about 1 ft off the curb, into the street- this is where we stand and wait to cross the street if we are not a tourist), and I noticed a Trash Man to my right. I noticed him because of the way he was HURLING and SLINGING the trash bags VIOLENTLY into the back of the garbage truck. With all of his HURLING and SLINGING- TRASH JUICE was going everywhere! Including right at me! Right at my SHOES! Friggin sick!

If you ever meet me, you'll soon find out that I cannot hide my emotions. My face shows everything. At this very moment, I looked as though he had POURED the garbage juice directly ON ME- I gasped and jumped away from this reckless garbage flinger. But before I shot him my "I-am-SO-pissed-at-you-right-now" face, I remembered that HH told me that the NYC Trash men work for the mafia. Whether this is true or not, I doubt this guy wants to hear some chick yelling "Hey! Watch out for my shoes, Jerkface! Unless you want a patent leather ass kicking!"

I'm not sure what a patent leather ass kicking actually is...so I wouldn't ever say that... but I totally thought of it all the way to Heather's. Here are my shoes.