I am in love.
With a pair of shoes.
Slip ons, to be precise.
They literally... wait for it... slip on. My feet. Without tying.
I had a friend say “Oh yeah, I have a pair like that. I hardly ever have to tie them.”
I had to get all “Oh, No-O” on his feet. (Imagine this accompanied by a horrified expression, vigorous head shake and full-on finger wag.) “You don't understand. I don't have to tie these...EH-VER. ”
Because they... you guessed it... slip on!
I just hold my foot over the... ummm... open part where you put your foot... and VIOLA! They slip on!
It's like freakin' magic.
I don't have to bend over and wiggle the shoe onto my foot. I don't have to touch them at all with my hands. I don't even have to think about it. BAM!
There are no laces! None! Nada! Whatsoever!
No tying! Never! Nunca! Whensoever!
No annoying Velcro-rippy sounds and icky balls of fuzz stuck to the Velcro, either.
In a word: Genius.
In two words: Effing Genius.
Why has it taken me almost fifty... I mean almost thirty... years to find out about these miracles of modern footwear?
I know what you're thinking and NO. These are not sandals.
These are NOT dollar store flip-flops, schlip-schlap-schlip-schlapping down the hallway while they eat away at that tender skin between the little piggie who is going to market and the little piggie who is staying at home.
These are not slides which are suprisingly comfortable, yet leave all your piggies exposed to the cruel weather elements and whatever you might drop on them. (Trust me.)
These aren't some high-heeled, toe-crushing, Sex-Kitten, F***-Me, Hooker-Pumps that leave me teetering precariously down the sidewalk. (Because let's face it, I can barely walk in flats without tripping over empty space. Sad but true.)
These are not slippers. They are SLIPPERS ON STEROIDS. These are slippers that I can wear ANY. FREAKIN'. WHERE. I. WANT.
Because they are slip-ons. Not slipp-ers.
These are honest-to-God, full-coverage, fat-soled, hipster-souled, tennis shoes. Ish. With attitude.
Because these bad boys are leopard print.
They aren't particularly comfortable for extended wear (ie: farther than from the house to the car or for more than five minutes). But they were on sale. So... there's that.
Did I mention the leopard print? Jealous much?
Ohhhh, I remember how we mocked that boy in high school. You know, the one who wore the slip-on, plain, black, elasticized, tenny runners.
I am so sorry.
You were ahead of your time.
And I believe you are now an astrophysicst, (or a geneticist, or something science-y-ist). So. You know. No hard feelings, right? No "accidentally" blowing me up or sending the IRS my way, right? (Not that I Google-stalked you or anything. Who's the slip-on wearing, techno-nerd now ? Huh? HUH? Bazinga!)
And that's the problem. Back in the day, slip-on shoes were soooo... for lack of a better word, nerdy.
Now I know the truth: They are miraculous, labor saving devices that go on your feet!
Because I'm all like, “I don't have time to tie my shoes before heading out to the gym since I just finished makin' dinner and the garlic bread has two more minutes don'tletitburnorI'llkillyou, but I am throwing one more freakin' load of laundry in the washer before I go and – oops – scoopin' the litter box because – GoodGod – what has the cat been eatin' and how the hellcanIbelateagainforcraps'sake?”
I mean, I'm all like “I am pinpointing the position of that incoming asteroid which will seal earth's doom while simultaniously curing cancer, decoding Beethoven's Fifth and calculating Pi to its not not-so irrational (yeah, you heard me) final (that's right, final) number. Aaaand figuring out who gives a rat's ass why anyone cares which one is Kourtney Kardashian.
Because I am THAT cool.
In my nerd shoes.