6/6/08

A Tale of Two Shoes

School's Out! Happy Dances all around for everybody! Big E has been partying since the morning of The Last Day with multiple episodes of cake, real sherbet ice cream punch, popsicles, sleepovers, slip-n-slides, pizza, movies, swimming and more swimming. Not bad for less than 48 hours. Lucky for Little A he gets dragged along every which way and gets to partake of the festivities too. Plus, all the girls LUUUV him. Oh, the benefits of being the little brother. I can only imagine the bliss he'll be in around 7 years from now when Big E is bringing her 16 year old girlfriends around. I wonder if they'll still think he's so adorable?

The opportunity to celebrate my own End of the School Year presented itself last night and I finally took in Sex and the City. I am probably in the minority of American females in that I enjoyed the series just fine, but always thought that mostly they were pretty shallow and I totally did not get the whole fashion thing. Seriously? A BIRD??? on your head for your wedding?

ANYHOODLES....Bubble Boy took the kids to fest some more while I got a haircut and prepared myself for the big night. You really shouldn't show up for Sex and the City in just any old anything, right? So I come home and whip up a meal to await my loving family until they return and I dash out the door to pick up TRACEY JACKSON. As we make our way to get our candy booty (I REFUSE on principle to pay movie theater prices for my junk) I look down and realize that the cute little sandals (NOT the hideous bondage sandals Carrie wore during the movie for the same wacky reason that possessed her to wear a bondage spike belt with flouncy dresses...huh??) I had intended to wear with my ensemble were still at home in the closet, because....what ARE on my feet are my big ol' fluffy white house slippers. The humongous, foamy, terry cloth, flip-floppy snowshoe slippers. To see a movie where the characters walk around in $500 shoes at the beach and have spawned a sort of Shoe Revolution these last 10 years. AND there's NO TIME to turn around and get my real shoes. But there IS time to peruse the flip-flop selection at Walgreens while we pick up our M&Ms whereupon I find some lovelyish black flip flops that managed to get the job done. TRACEY JACKSON suggested I keep them in my car for the next time. She knows me.

Once I recovered from Shoe Mortification the movie was entertaining, true to the series, and a giant reminder that we're all aging. I wonder if they'll do a Golden Girls-style Sex and the City reunion when Brady or Lily try to put Charlotte or Miranda in a nursing home?

2 comments:

tj said...

Frankly, I'm surprised that more fashionistas haven't picked up on the fluffy white house-thongs before now. They're way cuter than some of the crappity crap the SATC gals were wearing in the movie last night. I don't know why I repeatedly cried during the show except that I felt manipulated by the soundtrack. They just WANT you to cry!

Bubble Girl said...

Yes, they don't consider their job successful unless they're yanking tears out of you. I think I'm all cried out after watching P.S. I Love You. I was dehydrated for days.