these busted feets?!

I think I might actually be ready to admit that I am completely oblivious somewhere around 95% of the time. It’s really quite shocking to me given that I take ADD meds on a daily basis, but lo and behold, I still manage to not be aware of much that is going on around me. I like to think that I have a solid grip on my surroundings, but I am constantly met with opposition to such thoughts.

Thus births an event that I classify in the – creepy – category.

Now I have very few things that I actually spend money on in any notable capacity. Handbags and shoes are easily 2 things that rank in the category of excessive spending. I’m partial to Coach and can drop $500 without the blink of an eye when I am on a mission. Shoes on the other hand, I am a little more cost contentious of from the standpoint of not spending a substantial amount on one pair but rather spending smaller amounts on a lot of pairs. I lean towards the more unique work shoes. I have 4-5inch heels that in most occasions could be considered stripper shoes. I have heels that are leopard print with a bow on the sling-back. I have a pair that is wrapped in a red Japanese-type printed cloth. I have recently added a pair of electric blue snake skin heels to the collection. I love anything Steve Madden and a newly acquired favorite being Santana’s line of heels.

These are just to name a few… the selection is endless, really.

Ok, I’m sure you don’t care about what kind of heels it is that I am wearing, but there’s a purpose to the somewhat detailed shoe explanation, I swear.

Last Friday a couple of the gals from the office and I went to get pedis during lunch. Which I have to tell you, getting a pedi is quite possibly one of my favorite things to indulge in. I digress. Since the idea to go and get one during lunch came up after I had already gotten to work that morning, I didn’t have a pair of flops to take with me. I conceded to the fact that I would have to wear those paper-thin “things” they call flops for the majority of the day to let me tootsies dry. Eh, I didn’t have any meetings planned that afternoon, so it was just going to be more of a dull annoyance than anything else.

We get back to the office and I am carrying my Steve Madden heels in hand and am wearing the teal blue laughable flops from the salon. As the other 2 gals went into the building, I sat at the picnic table to take a call. In the middle of that call, a guy who I had never noticed before was walking into my office building. To reiterate – I’d never traded a kind hello with this guy, never saw him in passing, never road the elevator together, didn’t even know he worked in my building… kind of thing.

He says to me – where are your shoes?
I say – They’re right here (as I lifted them from behind my purse to show him). I went and got a pedicure at lunch today so I can’t put them on until my toes dry.

Which, I immediately thought – why in the hell do you feel compelled to tell randoms more information about yourself then 1) they care to know and 2) more than you care to share. Like he cares that I just got back from a pedicure and needed my toes to dry. The question was simple. Where are your shoes? They’re right here – would have sufficed. Why don’t you just tell him your address and social while you’re at it? Good grief. So I was in the middle of making a simple conversation awkward when I was trumped by this guy’s next admission.

He says and I QUOTE…
Oh, that’s too bad. I always love looking at your shoes. I look forward to seeing what shoes you will be wearing every day.

I was rendered SPEECHLESS, followed by a blank stare and an awkward laugh which was then followed by an even more awkward throat clear. I managed to get out – what? – about 15 seconds later and after he’d already passed me headed into the building. He didn’t answer.

Now, I’ve taken a relatively detail poll of my friends – guys and gals – and the consensus is the same. That’s effin weird. A guy who I have never seen before and never talked to before busts out with a loosely veiled – hey I have a foot fetish and your feet are the flavor of my day, every day.

I LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING WHAT SHOES YOU WILL BE WEARING EVERY DAY?

What the hell? Who are you? How is it that you have seen me every day and I have NEVER seen you? I’d like to think that I am not that unaware, but it became inherently clear that either I am just that oblivious or this dude is sneaky as hell; sneaking around shoe peeping.

To be clear, there’s a difference in someone you’ve never spoken to saying something like – I really like your shoes. I say that to gals all the time and then usually I ask where they got them. I mean, that’s a legit transaction between 2-people who have never spoken before. Guy or girl – although if the guy is asking where you got them, there’d be some room for concern. I digress, again.

Look I’m not too naïve to know that there is a ranking of girl’s shoes for guys. There are certain pairs of heels that girls wear that guys classify in the – come f*uck me – category. PS girls know which shoes those are and when to strategically wear them. We all know about it; no one talks about it. If a guy compliments a pair that is classified in the afore mentioned category, there’s a silent unspoken understanding hinted in coyness and/or innocent flirtation. I mean, I would be appalled if some random was like – hey, l like your come f*uck me shoes… those are nice. WHOA buddy… tacky much?! Why don’t you just tell me your measurements and what you call him when you’re alone?

So yeah, now I see this guy everywhere – probably because I have gone from yellow to red alert. He’d told me on Monday he was glad to see that I was back in heels as opposed to those blue things I was wearing on Friday. Uh… that’s weird man. On Tuesday, I was taking a break from work, sitting outside playing on my iPhone when my relationship with… we’ll call him Podo (you know short for podophilia) took an even more awkward turn, as if it really could become more awkward for me.

>> Aside – which calling him Podo makes me think of Frodo which kinda creeps me out even more. Elijah Wood… hobbits… feet… fetish. God, this has gotten dramatic.

The scene was the same – I’m on the picnic bench minding my own business, except this guy straight cut right past the pleasantries of small (awkward) talk to coming up from behind me, outside of my peripheral, to lift up my pant leg to see what shoes I had on. Now, I didn’t do what I thought I would do in such a situation and that’s punch a brazen bastard square in his rabbits. My instant reaction was that clearly since you are touching me, you must be someone I know. And by know… I mean someone that I have known for longer than 4 days and traded more than 20 words with. It wasn’t until he’d dropped the leg of my pant, kept walking while saying something like – I like really those today – that I even realized that it was Podo and not someone I knew. Ok… too far… WAY too far.

Ok dude… I knew I got the creep-vibe for a reason which I that could manage if you were only going to make the occasional comment and just be weird in your own space. But you graduated to touching me! On what planet is that even acceptable behavior? I should get mace and see how he likes being in my personal space, uninvited.

No seriously, I really want to know what the thought process is with this guy? Is it like – hey she talked to me once so I’ve clearly got her permission to just walk up to her all creepy-like from behind and just touch her. Who friggin does that? I’ll tell you who… a damn freak is what. I mean, what’s next… he lifts up my shirt? You know just to see what’s under there then tell me something like I really like those today?!

I think my office building is just sits on top of the 7th Circle of Hell, to be honest. First I had the Garage Dater guy who eventually just got creepy himself and the older dude that worked with the Garage Dater who tried to ask me out on the side, you know on the DL. Although, I haven’t seen either one of those guys in a bit so maybe they don’t work in this building anymore? Which is fine… whatever – because I can tell that Podo is going to require all efforts to keep him off these fine feets of mine. I don’t know why it always happens to me and at work nonetheless. It’s like they pick to do it at the work place because they know exactly where I’ll be for 8 hours of the day. (AH! HAHA! Ok, I laughed at the whole 8hours bit… but for at least a good 5-6hours anyhow.)

Ugh… why me?!

AND I will leave you with my random thought of the day…
I have used the word oblivious a couple of times in this little rant and somewhere along the way, I wondered if while oblivious meant to be unaware then livious should mean to be aware, right? Yeah, if doesn’t. It’s not even a word. I know, I know. You’re equally as disappointed as I. But just do what I’m going to do and start using it. Say it confidently enough and people will believe you… some will even probably go look it up and then tell you later that that’s not even a word.

Then react in my most favorite ways of reacting, by saying – Oh my god, really? Good lord, how long have I been saying that and how many people thought I was an idiot? Thanks man. Then make sure to use it again within 20mins.

>> Funny last story in this ridiculous blog… I decided that if we are going to use the term – using the facility – as a reference for going to the bathroom, then when you are in there you are facilitating, no? So I would jokingly say, I need to facilitate – if I needed to go to the bathroom. I knew I was using it improperly, but I thought it was funny. One day a girl I worked with came up to me after I’d said it, pulled me aside and was like – hey, I don’t think you’re using that word correctly… I looked it up to make sure, and I am positive you aren’t. To which I said – OMG, thanks man, I didn’t know! You saved my life. LMAO – I even looked it up. That happened like 6 years ago and I still laugh about it (and I still say facilitate in reference to using the bathroom)! Good times. I'm an ass. LOL.