Friday night jparks and I went out for a date night. We had dinner at Xanh where I got a little tipsy and declared that I don’t like people (but not you, you I like) then we saw Percy Jackson, which was awful and we spent the duration of the movie pining for New Orleans where you can order a daiquiri to help ease the pain of dumb movies, but none of that has anything to do with the rest of this story.

When we left the house it was raining so I decided to wear my new skinny jeans that I bought for the sole purpose of tucking into my lovely wellies. In the past I’ve discussed my disgustingly thick calves which do not fit into regular boots, and I hate to admit it but they have not changed. So when wellies are super cute and loose on other girls, they are snug and not as cute on me, yet I wear them anyway because no one likes wet feet.

So I was wearing my cute wellies all night and they were snug, especially since I crammed not only my calves and jeans into them but also a pair of violet welly socks. They weren’t uncomfortable though, so I didn’t think anything of it. Can anyone guess where this is going?

When we got home I tried to pull the left boot off and that’s when things started to go downhill fast. The boot was completely stuck and the more I tugged on it, the more it became clear that it had no intention of budging. After a few pathetic moments of tugging on my own leg, I called in jparks to get the job done. It turns out the welliess were so stuck that jparks managed to pull me off the chair I was holding onto with a death grip when he yanked on them.

I thought the worst part would be just getting the wellies off my legs, but holy crap I was wrong. Once they were removed I realized my calves were on fire. And turning purple. It was not a good scene. I ended up not being able to sleep in pajama pants that night because having them rub around my legs was unbearable. And the only thing that made the sheets bearable was the ice packs I wrapped around my legs. Ice packs! The absurdity of the situation was not lost on me. I was crippled by my wellies! My feet stayed dry but I almost lost my legs below the knee. I probably gave myself deep vein thrombosis. It would be fitting if I died at the hands of my shoes.

It’s still really rainy here but I haven’t had the balls to wear the wellies again. Perhaps I can risk it if I skip the fleece socks. But damn they’re cute. And isn’t cuteness worth risking limb loss for?

Greetings from the other side of 30! Things here are, um, older? Actually, having only been in the land of 30 year olds for ten days now I can say life here isn’t as scary as I was expecting, although a few things do suck.

Sucky Thing Number 1: Truman’s reaction when I told him how old I am now

He used to be my favorite child, but has now lost that title to Lily. She will never judge me for getting older.

Sucky Thing Number 2: Mustache

I swear the day before my birthday my upper lip decided “What the hell, let’s grow a mustache!” I’m no stranger to facial waxing as I can’t handle plucking my own eyebrows so I have them beaten into submission via wax frequently. And I’ve even given in to waxing that upper lip area in the past, but I’ve never felt like it was necessary. Before it was a preventative attack but now it needs to be done. I wonder if it feels like jparks is just kissing himself lately.

I’m sure there are other sucky things that I’m too tired to remember them right now. (perhaps I’m not too tired, it’s just my memory going since I’m old. That can be Sucky Thing Number 3!) So onto the good things about being 30! Wheee!

We went to dinner at LB Steak, just the two of us, and I got a very tasty adult beverage:

It’s okay to admit that you’re a bit disappointed that my tasty beverage is covering my mustache. That wasn’t done on purpose and is just a happy mistake

Besides a spiced pear lemon drop I also had a filet mignon and some truffled mac and cheese. Oh! And pork belly with a fried egg! It was a meal full of win.

After dinner jparks and I walked over to Nordstrom where I got these beauties:

Apparently once you’re 30 you’re finally responsible enough to own a pair of very expensive shoes. Or maybe you need very expensive shoes to distract from your mustache. Either way, I have very expensive shoes that make me feel very good. I know you’re thinking those are pretty tame as far as shoes go, and I would have loved something more along these lines, but really, a black pump? I’ll wear the hell out of that.

All things considered 30 isn’t too bad. I mean, sure as Mary-Lynn pointed out lusting after Chuck Bass is now probably extra creepy and I bet that same thing applies to Puck from Glee, but hey I have nice shoes! And jparks still loves me despite the mustache. Now if I could just convince Truman that me being 30 isn’t the end of the world and that if he wants to make fun of someone for being old, perhaps his father is better suited for being the butt of those jokes. After all, he’s older then me and bald, that’s comedy gold right there.

And I’m wearing my kick ass boots for it, with my kick ass purple tights

And I’m taking jparks to eat at ‘wichcraft before the show, which is the best sandwich place in SF (It’s the only sandwich place I’ve been to in SF, but whatever, it’s really good).

So the other day I was cleaning the house before the cleaning crew came and I realized that I have a lot of shoes. Like A LOT. I know, it was a total shock to me too.

This is what my guest bedroom wall looks like:

The rest of this room has been in such disarray that I never realized that something useful could be in that spot, like a bookshelf or a mini fridge so I don’t have to walk all the way downstairs for a cold beverage. But now that room is clean and actually room-like and I’m fairly certain I want my mini fridge there. Oh, or a reach in freezer for ice cream!

The first step to having ice cream is to get rid of some shoes. And, believe it or not, that picture was taken after a fairly large shoe purge, so obviously one purge wasn’t enough. My next step is to stop buying shoes. Heh, seeing both of those steps written makes me realize just how much I have to change for that freezer. Man, ice cream in bed better be worth it.

As far as getting rid of what I have, I think I need to come up with a system to track the shoes I’m wearing. I mean, that’s a lot of shoes and I know I don’t wear all of them, but some of the lesser worn ones are cute. And how can you get rid of cute shoes? You can’t. Unless you can have ice cream in bed after getting rid of the cute shoes.

I want to whittle that tower down enough that my shoes fit in a closet. Actually let me qualify that a bit: I want them to fit in a closet with room for other things like clothes and vacuums. Can you imagine?!? It’s blowing my mind. Are you doubting I can do that? I bet you aren’t the only one. But I’ll prove you guys wrong, you have no idea how much I want ice cream in bed.

Today California forced me to do something I didn’t want to do. Something I didn’t think I would ever do. Something that makes me hang my head in shame. Today, I bought a pair of Uggs because it is ungodly cold here. And rainy! And running around in peep toes heels in the cold rain sucks. S-U-C-K-S!

I know, I know, they are ugly. [insert Uggly joke here] But I’m cold and they’re WARM. And being warm makes my toes happy. And having happy toes makes me a tiny bit less cranky and me being less cranky is always good for jparks.

In my defense I didn’t buy the traditional Ugg boots, I bought what I like to call Ass Kickin’ Ugg Boots. I also got them on sale because I couldn’t stand to spend that much money on Uggs, even the Ass Kickin’ kind.

And now that I own Uggs, I want to make a few promises to you, just so you can rest assured that I haven’t lost my freaking mind.

I wore 30 different pairs of shoes this month.

As we all know I’ve been taking pictures of my shoes every day this month and posting them on flickr. And up until today I’ve only had nice people comment about my various pairs. Nice people without foot fetishes. Nice people that don’t make me hate the internets.

Okay, let’s back up. I posted this picture today:

I posted it in the NoBloPoMo group, which is not a fetish group. I did not give it any tags that would indicate I want fetish people to look at it. This was supposed to be a totally innocent picture. And yet I got a comment on it that was not innocent.

I’ve since blocked that particular flickr user and, by doing that, all of their comments have been deleted. But I know what the comments were and I’m still totally creeped out. I have nothing against people with foot/shoe fetishes but ugh, leave me alone!

Okay, in truth it’s only some of the shoes.

This weekend I had the brilliant idea of lining all my shoes up on the steps and taking a picture. But the fatal flaw was that I have more shoes than steps (even if I put three pairs per step). Plus you couldn’t really see the shoes at the top of the steps.

After some carefully scouting places in the house I decided I should lay them all out in the living room. But they wouldn’t all fit. I was going to break them into two pictures, flats and heels, but I ran out of time before I got to the heels.

So stay tuned, heels coming soon. And, if I can figure out how to move the coffee table, maybe you’ll get a shot of all the pairs together.

If you click the picture, it’ll take you to flickr where you can see all the notes I added.

I’m definitely feeling like a home owner as jparks and I spent a large chunk of our long weekend working on various home projects. I painted and he elfa-tized our bedroom closet.

In order to add the new shelving he had to remove all of my shoes from the closet. He stacked the ones in boxes in another closet and dumped all of the ones not in boxes into a big pile. Normally I would have yelled at him for this, but I was too busy to care. I was also too busy to count my shoes and take a nice picture of them. Instead I present you with this:

I’m not certain how many pairs of shoes are in this pile and tower configuration, but I do know that this is not all of the shoes in the house. I swear, I’m going to count them this week. Scout’s honor!

Did I sufficiently depress everyone? Probably not, I probably just depressed myself. Aw well, time for the cheering up!

I bet your wondering when I’m going to admit how many pairs of shoes I own. I’m wondering that myself. This weekend is the planned official shoe count and photo op. It’s number one two three on my list of things to do. Along with painting, finishing the unpacking, adding more storage unit pieces to my closet, cleaning out my closet, figuring out why I’m having trouble uploading pictures, trapeze, and dinner with friends. hmm, that’s a lot of stuff. But I promise to get those dang shoes counted.

I really wanted to wait until my shoes for the stripper class came in to do the count, but I think they might be awhile still. I won’t link to them because they are really awesome and I want to post pictures of them myself. All I’ll say is that they are red. Red stripper shoes make me happier than they should. Of course, I thought about getting these but realized I better wait until I turn pro. You’ve got to save something exciting for later.