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Reboot November 12, 2009

Posted by Kimmothy in Shopping, Work.

This week has been kind of an asshole. It has had its moments; I’m just glad it’s almost over. There’s still Friday the 13th to get through tomorrow, but that’s actually always been a lucky day for me. And the good luck even came a little early this time.

I’ve kept pretty quiet at work, which has always been fairly easy. Until recently. Now that I have my two friendly office neighbors, it’s much harder to get away with keeping to myself. I would’ve loved to have worked with my door shut on several occasions this week, but then they’d give me a hard time and have hurt feelings. Why do I care about the feelings of people I barely know? I wish I knew. But I do, so I left my door open and suffered through their jovial interactions and exhausted myself with the effort of faking happy.  

I already described some of the annoying qualities of K, but this week J actually got to me more. She’s a social worker, so of course is very, well, social, and somehow manages to keep the conversation going almost non-stop pretty much All. Day. Long. It doesn’t even really matter if anyone answers her back – she’s one of those who can keep a running dialogue going with herself like a champ. But today was when I realized she posseses a quality I despise in people.  

She’s a one-upper.

It doesn’t matter the topic. You’re sitting there having a perfectly pleasant conversation, maybe sharing something about yourself. Oh yes, she’s done that. She knows exactly what you’re talking about, because the same thing happened to her, only it was a few years before it happened to you. A cool restaurant you like? Oh yes, she’s been there. And personally knows the owner. Or, she knows an even better restaurant, one you should go to this weekend, it’s so great.

She came breezing in after lunch today, excitedly telling us about the best  salon she just discovered. They’re inexpensive, quick, friendly and the location is the most convenient ever. Her nails did look very nice. She told me to go; they weren’t busy today at all. I started to politely protest, saying I do my own nails and that I don’t really like acrylics, but no. I have to try this place. If I don’t want acrylics, I should just get a regular manicure because it would be the best ever. When I declined, she actually told me the next time I wanted to get my hair cut, I should go there. If I had any balls I would’ve asked her if she owned stock in the place, but instead I just told her my sister-in-law works at a salon and cuts my hair for free, TOP THAT, YOU FREAK.

Even with the blustery rainy weather, I knew I had to get out of there. I practically ran out the door, not even sure where I was headed. But an idea quickly formed and I ended up at my favorite consignment shop. 

On my ongoing mental wishlist there’s been a pair of perfect boots I’ve been dreaming about for a long time. Preferably black and knee-high and hopefully leather. Preferably and hopefully very affordable. Also I’ve bought and sold a lot of clothes in this place because the owner is this tough, kind of scary girl who is always hungover and bitchy and full of awesome gossip, mostly about herself. I love her a little bit and knew her surly attitude would be the perfect remedy to all the exhausting perkiness I’d been dealing with.

I was catching up with her, when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted them. If I was starring in my own cheesy chick flick, a dramatic ray of light would’ve burst forth through the clouds and the ceiling of the store and onto the shelf where these boots sat, along with the comedic chorus of angel music.

I didn’t let myself get excited at first, because come on. This stuff doesn’t happen to me. It’s a consignment shop – what are the odds they were my size? And then I saw – size 9. Well, there it was. I wear anything from a 6 to a 7 1/2 in shoes, depending on the brand. But then I rememered something about going up in size when it comes to boots, especially ones that cover the calf. Could it really be?

Yes, it could. I slipped that beautiful buttery badass thing on and suddenly all was right with the world. I stood up and looked at my leg in the mirror, already picturing the outfit I’d build around it. The owner came up behind me and said, “They were made just for you, girl.” I hesitantly turned the other one over, scared to see the price. Eighteen dollars. She saw me do it, and before I could shout out with joy, said, “For you, ten bucks.”

Whomever said shopping is an empty way to fill an void and that material possessions can’t bring true happiness is a moron. Or at least not female. No, my new boots aren’t going to actually solve any problems, mine or others’. But damn if I could wipe the stupid grin off my face all the way back to work.

Until I told the girls what happened.

“Oh wow, that reminds me of this awesome shoe store I go to whenever we’re up in Virginia…”



1. Laura - November 12, 2009

So you’re saying she’s a Penelope?

Kimmothy - November 15, 2009

YES!!! I thought of referencing her when I wrote it, but didn’t think anyone would know who I was talking about!

2. Shari Sherman - November 13, 2009

What, no pics? You know we are all dying to see the boots now, right?

Kimmothy - November 15, 2009

These are awesome enough to take a picture of – I will do that the first time I wear them which will hopefully be by Thanksgiving or before!

3. Swistle - November 13, 2009

Well, her SISTER is a stylist who OWNS a salon and gives HER money whenever she gives her a hair cut AND color!

The boots. OMG.

Kimmothy - November 15, 2009


4. Taoist Biker - November 13, 2009

Boots sound badass to me. And perfect for kicking goddamn one-uppers in the teeth, perhaps?

Well, you won’t know until you try, willya?

Kimmothy - November 15, 2009

These boots were made for kickin’ and that’s just what they’ll do…

5. iamheatherjo - November 13, 2009

Even if the boots ended up being a little roomy, you can wear nice, thick socks with ’em! I’ve never bought shoes/boots from a consignment place before. I can only imagine the poor person who would buy my “gently used” boots or shoes. I walk funny and, in turn, I bet the person trying to wear my shoes would walk funny too! Hahaha!

Kimmothy - November 15, 2009

Ha, never thought of that. These look like they’ve hardly been worn at all though – seriously, the bargain of a lifetime.

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