I saw a girl today walking down the street in her nice new shoes. How could I tell? Were they gleaming and shiny as she click-clacked down the street? Did she occasionally glance down to admire them as she sauntered past?
Did she fuck. She scraped her battered heels down the street like a worn out piece of chalk. She looked down-trodden and beaten by life. But she still held onto the day her shoes were new.
How do I know all this you ask? Do I have amazing powers of observation that should send me sky-rocketting into a TV career? Well, no, actually. She still had the bloody stickers on the bottom of her shoes from when she bought them two seasons ago. Argh! I scream inside everytime I see this. Do you keep the price and size tag on your new shirt? Do you retain and proudly display that odd bit of paper sewn into the back of your new jeans? Well take the fucking price tag off the bottom of your shoes! Just cos you're so lazy that you can't be arsed spending 5 seconds of your life to take off that sticker doesn't mean I have to see it each time you take a step. You shit me. You really do.
You think I'm being too harsh? Look out for it. You'll be amazed at how many women (and some men) do it. It will drive you crazy now I've mentioned it.
No comments:
Post a Comment