Stuff. Stuff. And More Stuff.

Here I am diligently procrastinating over any attempt at accomplishing school work. Instead, I'm here geeking out over the blogger "define/translate" button here in blogger compose mode.

How I love the English language. I would love to see more Americans speak it. I'm reminded of a trip once to Tinseltown Video where the dude interrupted our transaction, "Ummmm, kay, just a sec...", to pick up the phone and professionally grunt into the phone, "yeah...uh-huhhhh. mkay."

UH-HUH, cause that's like totes awesome, girlfran.

Mondays are my 'day off' from school which makes for a perfect lineup in my school week. My one weekday off effectively postpones studying for a weekend of frippery in lieu of what I affectionately have deemed Cramming Monday.

Cramming Monday sucks. Why do I do this to myself?

Oh, yeah. I don't want to fail my classes. Failing classing means Obama won't cut me that check every quarter to get my edumacation. Translation: Me no likey.

I'm part-time this quarter and back to FT in the fall. It's been good to have some leeway. Mr Coffee has decided that our sole income was like, important or something, pffft. He does what and goes where his employer says. For nearly a year, he's been out of town Mon-Thursday. I honestly don't mind him being away since I'm pretty entrenched in my own routine; I'm eyeballs deep in playing carpool taxi, finishing school homework, and reading a load of books, amongst other things.

Mr Coffee and I talk about 50 times a day so the separation isn't that difficult. He's pretty tired of the hotel rooms and not being home. Eating out and the typical 2 to 3 hr drives twice a week is getting old as well. However, neither of us are tired of his paycheck so we aren't complaining. Not one bit.

After the kids were off to school this morning, I drove over to my friendly neighborhood coffee shop to curl up on one of their overstuffed chairs and have a cup of joe. I like to people watch and make hideous conjectures about their lives and character based on clothing appearance and coffee selection. Don't judge me, it's way fun.

Specifically, I believe you can tell a good deal about a person by their choice and condition of footwear. Where this may not be completely scientific or in any way accurate, I've come to a few hare-brained conclusions:

•A man's image can be finely polished (pun intended) with a shined pair of shoes.
•Velcro shoes are cool only when you are under 10.
•Peep toe shoes aren't called Hey Look At My Giant Sausage Toes Hanging Out Of The Peep Hole Because My Feet Are Too Big For These Shoes.
•Uggs and Crocs are ugly. Comfortable perhaps but nonetheless, ugly.
•If you are casually walking around in orange traffic cone, pleather, platformed stripper shoes in jeans and sweater, people will stare. Especially when your BMI is around 45.
•Combat boots are hot when worn with camis. Rawr.
•Shower shoes are, ironically, for the shower.
•If you do wear heels, stand up straight to avoid bending over like Quasimodo as you mosey about.
•Flip flops should be worn in summer. Not to church. Or a funeral. Or the Whitehouse.
•If the heels of your feet are black and/or cracked or polish is half chipped off? Get thee to a pedicure.
•If your toenails curl around your toes and touch the ground, or perhaps you need assistance to put your pants on due to toenail length, forget the flip flops and buy a pair of clippers. Dude, that's just gross.

I usually wear black and white Chucks (that's Chuck Taylor Converse for all you old school peeps). I have all sorts of colors and patterns because they are arguably the most comfortable shoes on the planet. My 13 year old has a groovy pair that are high tops in white with pink cupcakes and recipes all over them. They are very cute and I wonder how good the recipe will turn out.

So, dear readers, what do my shoes say about me? Love to hear your take...remember, this is fun.

~Bee is listening to The Break And Repair Method's "You Wont Be Able To Be Sad"