What To Wear Wednesday: The New Boots and Their High Acclaim

by | Dec 29, 2010 | Ridiculous, Style | 6 comments

The huz made sure these babies were under the Christmas tree. Yes, he is a GOOOOOOOD man.

prospectress bootsI could not wait to wear them. Out. I wore them several hours on Christmas day… in my kitchen. But these boots were made for walkin’, not cookin’!

I had a little errand to run a couple days after Christmas… Something having to do with my 5 and 8 year old daughters cracking the ever-loving life out of the touch screen of my iPrecious. I will warn you, the following picture is disturbing. View ONLY if you have a strong stomach (NSFW!):

cracked phoneI gag a little every time.

I have a non-cracked phone now, and I am thinking of renaming her… iDarlin’.

But I digress.

The boots.

As I left the mall after a successful broken phone resolution (the local Apple store replaced it for FREE, and I wasn’t even showing cleavage!!!). Now I am beholden to them forever and will forever be faithful.

As I left the mall… and made quite a walk back to my car… in my new boots… a minivan slowed.

No.

It stopped. The driver cared not about the many cars now stopped behind her.

She cared only about my boots. She rolled down her window and emoted,

GUUUUUUURRRRRL!!! Them are some CRACK A** BOOTS. D*MN. CRACK. A**!

I was all, “Ummm… thank you! Thank you?”

On the way home, I wondered if it was actually a compliment afterall.

So I went to Dr. Google which, of course lead me to the urban dictionary.

My findings disturbed me.

So… did I look like a crack head? Did she maybe think I was a prostitute who worked the mall parking lot on Mondays around noon. Maaaaaaaybe what I thought was a “hot boot swagga” looked more like a gimp that caused crackal sweating???

OR was I simply pwning my Prospectress boots and she had to tell a girl.

It’s impossible to know.

Her physical reaction seemed to say, “Awesome boots, sista!” But the Urban Dictionary would assert that perhaps my boots didn’t work properly, or my boots had a dirty crack?

I choose to believe my new boot swagga was on-mark. I choose to believe that woman was smitten with my boots. Aaaaaaand quite possibly me.

Yeah.

Dear mercy… there’s nothing quite like a day trip to the Tacoma Mall in one’s crack a** boots.

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Keep up on the ridiculous, the insightful, the always digressive…

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