My Subconscious love of shoes + Married Men + Get the Hint Already! + Silly Crushes + The Return...

I was finally bored enough today to go to my mom's house and use her
flighty ass wireless internet. I looked at her closet and found myself
trying on a more than a fe pairs of her shoes and I came upon a pair I
remembered from when I was about 17 years old. They were still in the
same nice condition that I remmebered them in. Pink, pointed-toe leather
with a sweet little bow just above a generousamount of toe cleavage.
Sweet.
I remember not being able to walk properly in them. A few steps would
sendf my ankle reeling. I slipped them on and walked down her hallway.
I'm a supermodel. No ankle pain. No awkward steps. I walked in them
perfectly. It brought everything back. I got her mojo.
My fondest memories of my mother include her shoes. I would walk into
her closet and be amazed that one person could have acquired so many.
Most of our arguments included me borrowing them and either damaging or
not reuturning them.
I thought of LP and her hatred of shoes. I think it directly ties into
the hatred of herself - not wanting to bring too much attention to
herself. I can't name one woman who slipped on a pair of 3/4/5 inch
heels who didnt want to be seen.
My mother was never like that. She showed me that she was beautiful
every day and I learned a lot about confidence/makeup/how to dress from
her. I'm not sure if she got that at home.
***
Leroy just doesn't get that chick doesn't want him. I've been dodging
his calls like he's a bill collector. I feel bad, but I just can't help
it. A. N. N. O. Y. I. N. G!
The key to my heart is a hot kiss. Something that will melt my panties
off. Yes, that's how they come off.
He's been calling me left and right everyday. Today's call hasn't come
and I'm thrilled! Maybe I've found the key to why he's single with not a
single prospect at 40!!!

Good luck w/that buddy.
***
I have a crush on one of the dudes that drums on the train for money.
When he looks at me, it electrifies me. Hmmm....

***
I know I said I wouldn't mess with Blair anymore. But.....
He called me. Maybe I'm weak...but, I do want to use this opportunity to
get some things off my chest. Plus, I think I deserve it after the Leroy
debacle. If anything, I'm thinking I can see which window is his so I
can throw a brick square through it. I'm all about the future.

But, today is Day 1 of a cold and I feel like mold. I might fall asleep
and "forget" to call him later. He caught me at a weak moment - at the
end of the day when I was just worn out and my defenses were weakened.

***
What is inappropiate to say to someone at work? A former superior told
me last week I had the most beautiful skin.

Today I had on a beige body-skimming (not tight not loose) dress on,
paired with these 3 inch brown and beige heels on. (ubercute) He was
coming from behind me and I looked back. He said, "Yea I see you. Its
like bam!"

I laughed it off because it was the only reaction I could come up with.

Inside, I was like...eh.

I'm the only female in my department. A department of at least 6-8.

Friday, I asked my main nay-sayer to pull an errant staple out of the
stapler for me because I couldn't quite grasp it. He said, "This is a
man's job." I was inclined to think he wasn't just referring to the
handiman work. Things that make you go hmmmm...

I got the promotion I cursed out my superiors via blog about. After
hearing from other parties about MoBetta's incompetence, they offered
it to me. When pressed (self-imposed) about the decision, my boss (who's
from Israel) says its a woman's job. Oh not really, you know you're a
woman but you have um....

I chuckled, "Great organizational skills?"

"Jes jes"

This has to be a precursor to more outrageous shit to come.

After a long day at work, my feet and my booty hurt. My feet because I'm
in heels for the better part of the day and concrete and heels don't
match. My booty because I sit all day. Even in comfy shoes, my feet are
tired. I'm torn.

***
I know you all read to the end to hear what I have to say about the
married me. When I worked at Cablevision, there was this guy with the
same name as Leroy. He was so "me" at the time. Really afrocentric. He
loved The Roots, Mos Def, Talib Kweli, De La Soul. He was so
complimenting of me in that way where I was that "thing." Here's my
theory. Men always want the hot thing. Whether it be a woman, a car, a
shoe, something that they can only ogle and could never truly have. I
think I represented that for him. He could only view me from afar
because I was flyer back then than I am now. I would routinely come into
work, my hair flyy with 3/4inch heels on, makeup done, the whole 9
yards. A lot of the men looked at me a certain way and so did the
chicks. As they were walking in with timbs and baggy slacks (ick), I was
in a pencil skirt, button down shirt, pumps, long hair and a cute purse.
Hmmm...its not abt what you wear, its the effort behind it. If you wear
the same pencil skirt and button down shirt, make sure that shit is
hand-washed in the sink and pressed. *snap*

Anywho, I loved the attention he gave me. He would give me the "look.."
But more than that he would talk to me like a normal human. He
stimulated my mind which is what I was most grateful for.

I knew I couldn't fuck with him when he began to tell me about his
child. She needed a lot of operations because something was wrong with
her heart and he and his wife were like zombies. I knew I couldn't fix
it. I would further damage his unhappy home.

In the end, I wouldnt be able to deal.

****
Fuck! I just missed 2 buses because I couldn't run. My body is jacked. I
just wanna layyyy DOWN!

Give me strength.