Thwarted! Sex boots are off limits. True story.

I popped in to DSW today to buy a pair of fuck-me boots for my trip to New York this week.

Yes, I used the Nineties phrase ‘fuck-me boots’. Deal with it.

While I was in the shop, caressing a pair of AMAZING rouched knee-high boots that screamed ‘SEX’ like a Madonna coffee table book, there was a power outtage.

Some doofus on the construction site next door sliced through a cable or something.

Myself and the thirty or so other women in the shop, who had been having affairs with stitched leather, were then shepherded out of the store, wailing like the pox was upon them.

I almost sobbed in the car.


So dear readers, how do I cope with this unforseen catastrophe?


Yours, with bare feet and heavy of heart,



2 Comments on “Thwarted! Sex boots are off limits. True story.”

  1. I think the best way to deal with this is to put on your Madonna-era granny boots from the 80s, drink some vodka, and Vogue.

  2. Have you not heard of Occupy DSW?

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