Year of the Dragon Footwear
In the Chinese zodiac, being born in the Year of the Dragon is supposed to be very lucky, blessing that person with all the charisma and power the spirits can afford. Then, there are a few exceptions like myself. After about 15 years of thinking I was actually a Snake, I came to find out being born early in January just sneaks me into the YOD. While I usually have my birthday forgotten or overlooked or just plain noboday is in town to celebrate it, my dear friends were kind enough to toss me a leetel partee. I had people come from the city of Manhattan and others from as far away as the coast of San Francisco to celebrate my aging process with chocolate fondue, a large-ass cup cake, and my Giuseppe Zanotti Dragon shoes. I've been drooling over these shoes for months and was ECSTATIC to get them.
Now, before I'm socked in that cubby hole as a Sex and the City shoe-a-holic: I buy Payless Shoes. I love Payless shoes. Okay, maybe I bought a couple Stuart Weitzman shoes. But with that exception, if the shoes cost $100, it better be a pair of tall black leather boots that'll last 5 years. I once bought a pair of Esprit sandals that I wore until there were literally holes in the soles of my shoes and I had to empty out the little pebbles that would occasionally creep inside and make me walk ridiculous enough to be admitted into the Ministry of Silly Walks. So, when I stumbled upon these pieces of art at Nieman Marcus, I almost decided to sell my ovaries for them... but after a doctor told me my eggs weren't in demand, I settled for the fact I would have to live the rest of my life having found the only shoes I ever wanted to marry go to some other lucky gal. So for months, I was in deep depression knowing my feet's sole mates weren't going to live happily ever after. That is, until my dear friends, Shenan and Lauren, threw me a birthday party and with the help of my transcontinental friends, brought my feet and those shoes together, for all eternity.
I think it is fair to say I am probably a bit hard on my friends for "forgetting" the day I popped out of my mother. I think it is more than fair to say that as much as I sometimes feel forgotten as we all sometimes do, I'm a self-victimizer. For all the times in the past when my birthday, of all days, was forgotten, I pass that fault on to all my friends now. If anything, it makes me a bad friend for not having more faith in those people who remember. Wow. I suck. Lesson learned. My friends are the most amazing people, the most thoughtful, and with the exception of a couple, the most beautiful. Here's to next year when maybe someone from Papua New Guinea will come and join us for some cake and we can represent both hemispheres.
Now, before I'm socked in that cubby hole as a Sex and the City shoe-a-holic: I buy Payless Shoes. I love Payless shoes. Okay, maybe I bought a couple Stuart Weitzman shoes. But with that exception, if the shoes cost $100, it better be a pair of tall black leather boots that'll last 5 years. I once bought a pair of Esprit sandals that I wore until there were literally holes in the soles of my shoes and I had to empty out the little pebbles that would occasionally creep inside and make me walk ridiculous enough to be admitted into the Ministry of Silly Walks. So, when I stumbled upon these pieces of art at Nieman Marcus, I almost decided to sell my ovaries for them... but after a doctor told me my eggs weren't in demand, I settled for the fact I would have to live the rest of my life having found the only shoes I ever wanted to marry go to some other lucky gal. So for months, I was in deep depression knowing my feet's sole mates weren't going to live happily ever after. That is, until my dear friends, Shenan and Lauren, threw me a birthday party and with the help of my transcontinental friends, brought my feet and those shoes together, for all eternity.
I think it is fair to say I am probably a bit hard on my friends for "forgetting" the day I popped out of my mother. I think it is more than fair to say that as much as I sometimes feel forgotten as we all sometimes do, I'm a self-victimizer. For all the times in the past when my birthday, of all days, was forgotten, I pass that fault on to all my friends now. If anything, it makes me a bad friend for not having more faith in those people who remember. Wow. I suck. Lesson learned. My friends are the most amazing people, the most thoughtful, and with the exception of a couple, the most beautiful. Here's to next year when maybe someone from Papua New Guinea will come and join us for some cake and we can represent both hemispheres.
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