Really. Hate. Like, if you're one of those people who says infuriating things like, "Hate is such a strong word!" Then I hate you, and I hate crocs, and I bet you are a grown woman and you wear pigtails in your hair.
I hate that too.
I'm sure there are a billion people whose delicate little feelings are hurt right now because they are sitting at their computer wearing pigtails and crocs and are about to leave me an Anonymous comment telling me that Hate is too strong of a word and I should just do everyone a favor and die.
And to you I say: let's stay friends. I know a bunch of people who love Crocs and think that wearing pigtails past the age of 7 is adorable (and sexy, which ha.ha.ha.) and they are all my friends. I just make fun of them.
And in return they torture me. For example, I had a party once, and they all came wearing pigtails just to see if I would pound my face through the wall. I didn't, but it was close and I'm not even lying. I was only saved by the presence of Mojitos and the hilarity of things that are sold at Pure Romance parties.
My mom knows that I hate Crocs, but she still bought me some for Christmas because LOLZ! So I decided to wear my Crocs today for walking in the parking lot at work so that my cute work shoes wouldn't get wet.
Crocs are the most ridiculous things. Ever.
I feel like a cartoon character with them on. I feel like I need to take huge steps, or march, or something. I feel like I should have humongous hands with big white gloves. I feel like I should dance a little jig and say things like "doodey do". I feel like a flaming moron.
Or, Mickey Mouse.
Having these giant shoes on made me completely incapable of acting normal. As soon as I put them on I felt the need to dance around and throw out jazz hands and just generally act like a dick. I did a little jig for my coworker as soon as she came in to work. Like, "Happy Wednesday, Melissa! Bet you wish you had an office with a door that closes but you don't so watch this little jig I'm doing for you!"
I was in the midst of a repeat performance after lunch, and Melissa suggested that I show our boss. OUR BOSS.
Obviously, A Stellar Idea. I'm in.
So down the hall I go! I am dancing the entire way from my office to his office - complete with jazz hands and outrageous facial expressions. But alas! He is on the phone and not looking my way!
I do not let the lack of attention get me down. I am an attention whore, and I'm wearing MAGIC SHOES, and so I just keep on dancing down the hall. At some point during my arm flailing grand finale, my hand swipes what should be the back of my skirt...
What SHOULD BE the back of my skirt. But is actually not the back of my skirt, because it is my giant ass. Which was, thank the sweet baby jesus, covered with tights.
Because during my spectacular dance display, my skirt managed to scoot up above my butt. And so here I am, dancing down the hall at work in Crocs and throwing out jazz hands and MY ASS IS HANGING OUT.*
I scream! I run back to my office and tell Melissa! And after she recovers from a deep belly laugh she's all...do you want me to take your picture?
Of course I want you to take my picture.
The Big Shoe Shuffle: Not To Be Performed in a Skirt, and Also, Maybe Not At Work.**
On my way home, I call Mark and tell him about the big shoe shuffle and my ass hanging out. He thinks it was a subconscious move on my part because I stayed up until 10:30 last night watching Jon Lajoie videos on You Tube over and over. One can only hear Show Me Your Genitals so many times before she gets ideas.***
*Somehow, I am so lucky that everyone was out of the office. Except for my boss who was on the phone, and another guy who was further down the hall and missed out on my performance. I die a little bit inside just thinking about doing the Big Show Shuffle in front of my boss, and then him seeing my ass as I walked away.
**It appears that Mah Crocs make me dance like Elaine from Seinfeld.
***I promise I won't try to show my boss or anyone else my genitals. No matter how many times I watch that video.