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As the summertime ends, let me give thanks for two things:

1) For no longer having to sweat 24 hours a day, because of the damn HEAT and HUMIDITY that feels like I’m spending the afternoon with Satan in the depths of hell.

2) And the absence of FLIP-FLOPS - which when combined with the heat and humidity, makes me prefer having hot pins shoved in my eyes.

I would love to meet the douche face who invented these things, because I’d “flip-flop” them all over their douche bag head!@#!!

Ok, deep cleansing breath......

I’m in the bookstore the other day, looking forward to a few nice quite hours with a cup of coffee and a pointless self-help book. I eventually find a cozy little spot, sandwiched between two bookshelves, as to avoid having to speak to the freaks of nature who insist upon starting up the most stupid-ass conversations with me (that’s another story). Anyway, about 15 minutes into my read, I begin to hear “it” in the distance…..


The aggravation starts in my toes and slowly begins to work it’s way up to the base of my neck. It feels as though I’m turning into a werewolf. I can actually feel the blood cells in my body being transformed into something hideous.

My eyes suddenly dart up over my reading glasses. And then I see "it". A woman with fuscha colored toe nail polish slowly meandering between the bookshelves...flip-flopping . She suddenly stops to look at the music CD’s (country western). There is a momentary silence. And then she does the inevitable. She begins to raise her right foot off the ground, and starts tapping the back-end of the flip-flop, against the heel.

taptaptap. taptap. tap. taptaptap. tap. tap. taptap. tap.

It sounds like Morris code.

I look around to see if anyone else in the store notices. Oh, that’s right, how the hell could they….with the latest iPod or cell phone stuck in their ear holes!

At this point, my shoulders start raising to the ceiling. I close my eyes and silently pray to the saints for control and forgiveness. It works…the heel tapper suddenly finds a CD and moves on.

Another 10 minutes of silence pass and then I hear “it” again. This time it sounds different. It’s a heavier flip-flop; slower and thudier. Like a flat tire. It's a man. My eyes catch him as he walks between the shelves. His toe nails look like they haven’t been clipped since the day he was born, and the calluses on his heels look like an armadillo. I cringe, yet I’m blessed - he keeps walking.

Not for long, though.

He returns again, walking past the shelves. He then returns again, walking past the shelves. And then AGAIN he returns, walking past the shelves. Back and forth, back and forth. Flip-flopping, flip-flopping. I feel like I’m at a carnival, playing one of those arcade games where you have to try and SHOOT the little moving ducks with a BB gun to win some tacky prize.

Oh dear God…what I wouldn't give for a slingshot.

Between the caffeine and the flip-flops, I feel like I’m going insane. So, I decide that it’s safer if I leave, than it would be if I stayed and went to prison. I quickly grab my belongings and head for the door. I would rather be in the streets of the city, suffering the tormenting sound of sirens, than to subject my delicate ears to flip-flops.

Look, I have nothing personal against flip-flops….I just think they should have been designed with a friggin' muffler.


*I think I should probably go meditate now.

1 comment:

  1. *GiGGLeS*

    Just having a read back on some of your older posts!!! LMFAO!!! I love this post!!!

    flip flop flip flop flip flop

    :-D xx