Friends, Romans, Countrymen- lend me your ears! I saw the sign, and Juliet is the sun. And I definitely think Shakespeare and Ace of Bass were birds of a feather. Maybe had the fates allowed them to exist in the same time they could have worked together. Maybe done a Youtube collab video. Really, the possibilities are endless.
But I digress. I have come to tell you The Tale of my Toe; Or, Why All Young Fashionistas Should be Wary when Rushing to Buy Shoes at Target.
It was a clear, yet blustery day. Not that I actually remember the weather; it just seems appropriate. I needed black flats. I needed my Target fix. The two came together in one glorious trip. Red and White assaulted my senses. I was in ecstasy as I made my way to the shoe aisle.
I saw them immediately; suede-ish black, pointed flats with bronze zipper embellishments. HELLO, LOVER! I snatched up my size real quick. They felt good. Snug, but not rubby. They were perfect. I threw them in my cart and meandered around Target for I don’t remember how long, but if my track record has any indication, it was probably a really long time.
Flash forward: they kind of rub.
Flash forward, forward (This is where the woe comes in): The carpet ripped my ring-toe (how do you classify toes? What is the nomenclature for toes?) toenail off. Like into my flesh off. Like I bled in our hotel room off. It really hurt, Charlie, and it’s still hurting. I still have dried blood around it because cleaning it thoroughly would break my number one rule: I don’t bend.
Guess what shoes I chose to wear today?
I hate myself.
Alas, Poor Toenail, I knew Him, Ace of Bass,