tayloe found a pair of Prada shoes in our garbage can the other day. that sentence would make no sense anywhere else in the world.
it also occurs to me that it's a little odd that my husband knows designer shoes when he sees them.
and that he actually looks in our garbage can.
and that he presumably took a dive in our trash to retrieve the shoes.
hm.
i won't think about that.
the shoes aren't my size, of course, and i don't really like them that much anyway (if i did i'd squeeze my toes in them regardless) so i'm selling them on eBay.
how much can i get for italian heels found in the trash? i hope at least $30 because i'd help me get a really cool birthday present for t2.
this was tayloe's advice:
"make them sound really awesome. something like, "purple james brown shoes! very sexy! very LA! perfect for all seasons!" and then he said, "just don't put that you found them in the garbage."
oh, ok. good tip.
i've been calling them dead woman shoes because we're sure that someone tossed them in our can just before tying cinderblocks to the gal's body and heaving her off a yacht into the santa monica bay.
1 comment:
well they were prada. what was i going to do? leave them in the can? for the record they were right at the top of the can resting on some grass clippings, sparkling like they were attached to the crushed legs of the wicked witch of the west or something. i'm sure the woman who owned them is in the morgue somewhere.
dada
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