SHOE PORN DAILY

Shoe Porn Daily Returns

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 00:15:00 +0000

Seriously folks. It's been a long time. So long that it seems appropriate to discuss the reasons for abandoning the blog for so long. Did I say it was a long time?

In May, in a fit of complete madness the shoe porn daily blog went offline in order to find funding to complete another more pressing project. Frankly, it costs a lot of money to fund a shoe habit so that my beautiful dedicated readers can actually read the account of my activities in a unique pair of shoes every day. Seriously it costs a lot and I ran out of shoes, then money, but not topics.

A lot has happened between then and now. My life and shoe collection has grown.

Radical Careering

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Wed, 16 May 2007 04:13:00 +0000

This blog is temporarily suspended as a result of radical careering.

Be back soon.

Patience

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Tue, 15 May 2007 03:40:00 +0000

Today I pondered why it is necessary to exercise patience in meetings. It just doesn't make sense.

Websters defines meeting as, an act or process of comming together or an assembly for a common purpose.

Patience, comes from the word patient and is defined as a person who bears pains or trials calmly or without complaint or to be steadfast despite opposition, difficulty or adversity.

Ok so we have a process of comming together for a common purpose and suffering, opposition, adversity and pain.

I don't know about you but it seems more appropriate to call a therapist as a patient rather then call for patience during a meeting. Straight jacket anyone?

Haiku Thursday

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Fri, 11 May 2007 02:50:00 +0000

Sunshine on my shoes
They glisten like morning dew
In rainbow colors

Navigating the Workplace Jungle

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Thu, 10 May 2007 02:03:00 +0000

The laws of business are not unlike the the laws of the jungle.

It's a constant struggle for survival in a world filled with predatory employees at all levels of the food chain, I mean organization. One miscalculation and you'll end up as some body's breakfast. Or worse yet, their subordinate.

This is what recently happened to a friend of mine. She had been working as a manager in her department for about a year when a couple of c-levels and her superior offered her a promotion. She would get a senior manager title but her current group would be split into two groups, half of which would continue to work for her in a new department and the other half would stay in the current division under new leadership. So essentially she would have less people to manage and get more compensation for it.

A year later, a different set of c-levels and her new superior decide that the groups are not working as well apart as they did together. The group that stayed in the original division would have to move into the new division.

Ok so at this point it seems obvious that the other group would roll back under said friend, since a year earlier that was the structure. But the jungle is a treacherous place with lions and tigers and rats! OH MY!

Instead, it was decided that said friend would be managing 3 managers who would then be managing the rest of the group. Except for this 4th group that was going to be managed by another senior manager, at said friends level, who in turn would be reporting to the new superior.

On the surface it sounds like said friend got a hell of a deal. With the exception of having someone as a pier where as before said friend was the only senior manager. Then there is that whole being elevated to a middle management job of managing managers. Oh and there is that whole no compensation aspect of this too.

Whoever coined the phrase, "it's a jungle out there", really wasn't kidding.

The Trouble with NPR

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Tue, 08 May 2007 21:34:00 +0000

National Public Radio (NPR) is my absolute favorite radio station. I have been a loyal contributing member since 2000 but I have always felt like the donation hurt a bit. I mean radio is essentially free. You turn the power button on in your car and bam! Music, news, talk, whatever you like. However, I don't think I'll ever feel that way again after visiting my local NPR station. I felt like pulling every bill out of my purse and handing it to the receptionist, but only after I scraped the change out of the floorboards of my car.

No it's not pledge time but it should be just so that those poor souls can have a nice place to work. It doesn't seem right that these hard working reporters and radio personalities have to work in an environment that has broken or missing ceiling tiles and carpet from the early sixties. The battleship grey paint looked like it was chipping off the walls.

Let's not EVEN talk about the parking lot. Ok let's. It's a combination of sparsely spread gravel, dead grass, torn up concrete pieces, packed dirt and pot holes. The employees must spend in the thousands getting a new alignment every month. It's not like this crowd would have SUV's with off road suspension packages, although clearly they could use it to get through THAT parking lot.

I feel for them. Really I do. Here I am sitting in a semi-clean office with updated carpet and tons of natural light. I have ceiling tiles that are completely intact AND a paved parking lot.

H Johnson shouldn't have to suffer through that bad case of good taste in straight jacket white radio booth. Lois Reitzes shouldn't have to worry about ceiling funk falling into her second cup.

Come on people. SHOW THEM THE MONEY! They really need it.

An Angry Restless Sole

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Tue, 08 May 2007 02:05:00 +0000

It started on Friday. I woke up in a foul mood and it only got worse over the day. Anything anyone said to me that day irritated me. I couldn't concentrate on anything. I couldn't get anything started or finished at work. That irritated me. I was irritated with other people, myself, the world.

My irritation continued through the next day coupled with restlessness.

Again the day was spent trying to get stuff done and failing. I started a few projects and then stopped prematurely leaving a trail of unfinished projects behind me. This is not typically my MO. I couldn't even get myself organized enough to go shoe shopping.

Why? Everything is going great right? There's more work than I can handle, my main squeeze is as dreamy as ever, Olivia came into the world safe and happy. What's the deal?

Oh wait. Maybe it's because I didn't post any blogs this weekend?

Blue Shoe Haiku

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Fri, 04 May 2007 03:56:00 +0000

Crystal blue like rain
Shoes rest on blooming flowers
The sun set too soon.

Beating the Dead Horse with a Heel

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Thu, 03 May 2007 02:35:00 +0000

Can't blog. Clowns may fire me.
Can't blog. Clowns may fire me.
Can't blog. Clowns may fire me.
Can't blog. Clowns may fire me.
Can't blog. Clowns may fire me.
Can't blog. Clowns may fire me.

Derogatory or Defamatory - Who is the Judge?

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Wed, 02 May 2007 03:10:00 +0000

My main squeeze gets a phone call from a mutual friend. He's frantic because his boss called him into his office first thing when he arrived at work.

The boss had some papers in front of him when my friend sat down. The boss begins by saying, "Apparently the one thing we both agree on is that you should be looking for a new job." Then the boss reveals a paper copy of my friends personal blog.

So when I heard this story from my main squeeze the first thing out of my mouth was, "Shit! that sucks." Then I thought about it a little more and said, "Well what on earth was he blogging about how much he hated his job for and why did he tell the guys at work where his blog was located? I mean that's just asking for it right?"

But then I had some lunch and talked through the situation a little more with my main squeeze and came to this horrible conclusion. My friend got fired because he has a personal blog. I read this blog entry myself and I can say this for a fact it was not defamatory. It never mentioned his company name, his job title, any details about his boss, or his bosses boss, no names of any kind were ever used in this blog entry or any previous blog entries. Actually he uses an anonymous handle and as far back as this blog has been published it rants about a lot of things, including work, on a regular basis.

My friend blogged about working for a company who's employees, in his opinion, were a bunch of idiots. It's possible that every thing he published in his personal blog could have been said, out loud, to me at a bar over a beer and could have been overheard by a co-worker. Would that have resulted in him getting fired?

No doubt this situation raises a ton of questions. But for me, this single question begs an immediate answer, "Is it legal for a company to fire an employee who publishes something on their personal blog, that a company representative perceives as derogatory ?"

Flats

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Tue, 01 May 2007 01:40:00 +0000

A petition came in the mail. It was inside this huge envelope that was stamped in bright red letters with URGENT, time sensitive materials.

My normal reaction would be to rip it open and read the contents immediately. But not today. Today nothing time sensitive could move me to take action.

Utter a sigh. Listen for the waves lapping against the shore. Envision Forest Gump on a lawn mower, slowly making circle after circle in the green grass. Think ice cream in a puddle on the ground.

This describes the state of mind of the person who recently returned from a brief visit with her family. I feel like a gummy bear on the dashboard of life. Melted.

A Master Class

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Mon, 30 Apr 2007 03:15:00 +0000

The theater was pitch black and only a shadow could be seen near center stage. Then a voice came from out of the darkness. The voice was telling a story about story telling.

The pace quickened, then slowed, then quickened again. There were moments when the speaker was at a frenzied pace and then within a breath took a long slow pause punctuated by the soft sound of music as the story continued.

A woman laughs at a tragedy. A four year old gets a history lesson in persecution. A navy battleship vending machine is refilled. A memory of humiliation and excrement is revisited.

The voice tells the story. The audience listens. We all experience the power of narrative.

Thanks NPR and Ira Glass for a wonderful evening.

Hurry up and Wait

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Sat, 28 Apr 2007 02:03:00 +0000

Airport travel can be such a drag.

You get up at the crack of dawn, shower, rush out into rush hour traffic. You hit every light between your house and the freeway. Get stuck behind a bus that's having trouble maneuvering around a corner it's too large to navigate. Fretting and biting your nails while you sit in the long line of traffic waiting to get onto the freeway.

Then miraculously, you get on the freeway and the road is open. Your only 20 minutes late. It's cool. There is plenty of time. As long as the checkout line isn't too long, which at this time of day shouldn't be a problem.

You arrive at the airport and make your way to long term parking. What's up with all these detours?! Why is the airport always under construction?! Crap there's a new automatic ticketing system which will invariably cost me more time than the old one to get a damn ticket. Stop TALKING at me and give me the damn ticket!! THANK YOU.

Ok just follow the signs to the parking deck where it indicates there are spaces. Now you just have to find one. After two or three spins around you finally find an open spot that's as far away from the terminal as possible. Crap lost 15 minutes on that round, but we're still good there's plenty of time.

So you run/walk toward the terminal and realize that you parked near baggage claim and your ticketing agent is on the far side of the building. Shit! another 5 minutes lost but the lines look good. Deep breaths.

On to the self service ticketing counter (more like self no service in my experience) slightly winded but no worse for the wear. Enter in the confirmation number... shit wrong number..try the other one..crap not working...ok swipe credit card...confirm passanger...check bags...print out receipt...get boarding pass. UREEKA! Check in complete.

Now for Security. "Boarding pass and ID please?" Take your shoes off. Take off your jacket. take your sweater off. Remove your belt, your keys, your wallet. One bin for your laptop. 1 bin for your shoes, jacket, belt, sweater and wallet, 1 bin for your your purse. No beep, no problem. Put on your shoes. Put on your sweater. Put on your belt. Put on your jacket. put the wallet back into your pocket along with your change. Put your laptop back into your bag. OK. Security. Check!

Sweet! Arrived at the gate with 30 minutes to spare. In just enough time to hear the overhead announcement that the flight is delayed.

And two hours later I'm blogging and still waiting.

Party Conversation

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Fri, 27 Apr 2007 03:05:00 +0000

People say the craziest things at parties. Most of the conversations are quite forgettable. But every now and then someone says something so remarkable it sticks with you forever.

Two friends of mine, both single, were discussing the state of their love lives. Normally this kind of conversation is pretty predictable, "I was dating this guy/girl for a while but I wasn't into him/her.." etc. pretty dull stuff.

However my female friend, who is a lot more interesting than the average girl, was discussing her dilemma with a male friend of mine. She was dating two people on and off for a couple of weeks and just couldn't decide which one to continue dating. After further probing by my male friend, she admitted that the problem was that one person was really great, smart, and funny, and the other was the exact opposite. So of course my male friend was like, "So where's the dilemma? It seems obvious that you should go with the smart one. What's the deal?"
My girlfriend says, "well the other one is really HOT. I mean it's hard to break up with such a good looking person. I know is smart and someone I can have a conversation with but god is sooo damn HOT!"

At this point my male friend could have said any number of things but what he did say was the last thing anyone of us would have imagined.

"Jeez, your as deep as a puddle."

The Stiletto Spike

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Wed, 25 Apr 2007 22:24:00 +0000

People can be rude to you in a myriad of ways. One of the more unpleasant rude experiences is what I affectionately call the "stiletto spike." The stiletto spike is a crafty maneuver used by passive/aggressives.

A person using the stiletto spike will open up the conversation with a pleasant topic that is unrelated to their agenda. Smiling accompanied by some light laughter is common during the initial dialogue. Then you are subtly transitioned from the informal pleasantries using a more formal tone which is preceded by a slight pause to enact focus. You are now primed and ready for the insult and injury that is sure to follow.

The key to a successful stiletto spike maneuver is the proper use of distraction. You must be enticed to get a closer look at the heel because you will be fascinated by the way the light is bouncing off the shiny, silver metal. Your focus is narrowed to the single uniform beauty of the forged cylinder when WHAP! The other shoe spike comes hurtling out of nowhere leaving you disoriented and angry from the surprise attack. You're left wondering how that slim shiny agreeable article could cause you such pain.

That is until your large chunky leather wooden heels come pummeling down on the top of their head. That maneuver is called the "platform of bricks."
Shear mass takes them down every time.

A New Soul

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Wed, 25 Apr 2007 03:15:00 +0000

This morning the day greeted me with a message of life.

This morning at around 6 a.m. an 8 pound 1 ounce little girl was born. Her mother was in labor for 25 hours at the end of which the doctors decided it was necessary to perform a c-section.

Both mother and child are healthy and happy. The family circle has gotten a little bigger.

Welcome to the world Olivia.

Lost Soles

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Tue, 24 Apr 2007 02:31:00 +0000

Getting up this morning was bad enough after last week's events. It got worse when I heard a disturbing report on Morning Edition about Chinese government officials forcing women to give birth to still born children by giving them an injection in their abdomen which induces labor within 48 hours. It is UNBELIEVABLE!

According to the report there are still some areas of China that are enforcing family planning laws that deny single women from giving birth to a child and married women from giving birth to a second child. Some of these women were actually reported as having forced abortions as late as nine months into pregnancy. In addition some women were sterilized sterilized without their consent.

How is this behavior still possible? How do legislative bodies get away with this kind of abuse toward women? Has the whole world gone mad? Or have I just awakened from my ignorant slumber?

The partial death of womens rights

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Mon, 23 Apr 2007 03:35:00 +0000

On Wednesday, April 18 2007 the supreme court upheld a federal ban on a medical procedure called "intact dilation and extraction" otherwise known to the general public as partial birth abortion.

This procedure accounts for only 1.4% of all abortions in the United States. This means that approximately 2,500 to 3,000 pregnancies are terminated between the 21st and 24th weeks of pregnancy using this procedure a year.

There are many reasons why women and their doctors make the decision to terminate a pregnancy after the 21st week using this procedure. Some are made for emotional reasons and some for medical reasons.

However as of Wednesday, it no longer matters. Women and their doctors no longer have the right to make that particular medical decision. Only Congress and the Supreme Court do.

This deserves a toast doesn't it? So raise your glasses with me people.

Long life to all those in Congress and the Supreme Court who wrap themselves in the American flag, carry a cross, and give birth to fascism in our beloved nation!

Shoe Haiku

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Sat, 21 Apr 2007 18:55:00 +0000

On an ivy bed
the shiny wooden shoe rests
with a heavy sole.

Deja vue

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Fri, 20 Apr 2007 04:16:00 +0000

...a neatly dressed woman said to us, "Excuse me. I overheard what you were saying and I just wanted to say that I think you two are really rude."

Surprised, we both looked at her as she continued, " You don't have to make fun of people just because they work for Mary K."

My friend and I looked at each other and started grinning. I said to her, "You don't happen to work for Mary K. Do you?" She quickly said , "No but I have a really good friend who does and she is a very good person. Mary K is a real company. It's not a cult you know."

At this point I'm trying to hold back the tears that are forming around my eyes from holding back the laughter. I mean what are the odds of the two of us swapping Mary K stalking stories in the DSW within earshot of a Mary K representative? It was like fate was giving me a second chance to re-address this situation. It was crazy and silly and completely out of left field and we were both stunned. Yet the question remained, how exactly do you respond appropriately to this situation? This woman was quite serious and very disturbed.

Thankfully she kept talking, giving me more time to think. She said, "And for the record it's not a pyramid scheme. The people who work there are very professional. I don't think people like YOU should get away with saying things like that. It's very rude."

As she stared at us, I imagined a number of responses that I could have made. My friend was staring at me too, waiting for a response and after a bit of quick deliberating I decided that the following response was the most reasonable. I said in a steady clear tone very slowly, "ummmm. ohh kaaay." accompanied with the cautious, kind of bewildered, your kind of crazy lady, don't shoot me look. She was staring at me. My friend was staring at me and I just kept staring at the lady, silently with raised eyebrows in anticipation of her next move. You could feel the tension.

And then another woman said, "excuse me. Is there a size 8 in that stack?"

Strange encounters of the moronic kind

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Thu, 19 Apr 2007 04:06:00 +0000

This story is a classic and one of my personal favorites because it involves one of my oldest friends in the world. She's actually the one who coined the term "moron magnet" and has been a frequent witness to many of the moronic moments I have experienced when shopping.

My girlfriend and I were shopping at DSW one afternoon. We were in one of the main aisles near the front of the store rifling through the cardboard boxes and catching up. I began recounting a story about a crazy shopping encounter I had the week prior at the local Filenes Basement.

Below was the discussion my friend and I were having:

ME: "So on Thursday I went over to Filenes to find a summer dress for that BBQ on Saturday. I was going through the racks when this woman comes up to me and says "Hi. I like your outfit. My name is ___. I noticed that you have a great sense of fashion. Are you currently employed?"
FRIEND: "Reeeeally."
ME: Yeah but it gets better. I was a little suspicious but I answered her politely, said thanks and asked her why she asked. She pulls out a business card and says "I'm with Mary K and we are always looking for young fashionable women. Would you like to come in for an interview? I think you would be a great fit."
FRIEND: "YOU'RE KIDDING!"
ME: "nope. This woman just came up to me out of the blue and asked me to work for Mary K. Can you believe it! I was getting solicited in Filenes at 2 in the afternoon."
FRIEND: "Ok. The same thing happened to me a couple of weeks ago in Marshalls but this one was so savvy. She never mentioned the name of the company she worked for. She just said they were doing interviews at the Regency hotel and I should drop by for more information."
ME: "So you didn't know she was from Mary K? Did you go?"
FRIEND: "Sure I did. I was curious about the opportunity so I showed up at the hotel but as soon as I saw the Mary K sign I left. It was really weird because all the women there looked so perfect. Like porcelain dolls."
ME: "Totally! The one who accosted me was beautifully made up but she looked like she had a pound of makeup on her face. She was dressed professionally though so I didn't really think twice about talking to her."
FRIEND: "So what did you tell her?"
ME: "I told her that I was employed and I appreciated her offer. I can't believe this same thing happened to you. You know stores have policies against solicitation. Do you think they are aware that this kind of thing is going on?"
FRIEND: "I don't think so. But I have a feeling they train them on how to do this as a way of cold calling."
ME: "I can't imagine that they would tell them to go into stores and stalk the customers to get them to go to a Mary K pitch."
FRIEND: "Well they do kind of have that cult feel to them. They dress similarly and the speech you heard was almost exactly the same as the one that was delivered to me with the exception of mentioning the company. Maybe it's scripted."
ME: "Ugh. What a creepy thought."
FRIEND: "I know. I'm not going back to Marshalls again."
ME: "GREAT. So if I want to shop at Marshalls or Filenes undisturbed I'll have to resort to wearing sweats and no make up to prevent a member of the Mary K cult from successfully profiling me. That sucks."
FRIEND: "Well you can just tell them that your not interested in pyramid schemes. That's what I plan to do next time. If there is a next time."

And then...to be continued.

What a Sicko!

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Wed, 18 Apr 2007 00:50:00 +0000

As a woman there are certain disdainful things that are associated with having breasts. I'm not talking about those common problems like, the tenderness during that time of the month or the shelf effect. No. I'm talking about those really dreadful moments when the breasts cause the opposite sex to do any number of abominable things in public.

Case in point.

I'm shoe shopping with mother on Saturday. Shocker I know but stick with me here.

We are sharing a seat on a bench and trying on shoes when this older gentleman (I use this descriptor as it was my initial impression) approaches. As he gets closer he stops, takes a long stare at my chest, winks at me and as he's winking he opens his mouth and smacks his licks with his tongue.

Did I mention my mom was sitting right next to me?

So after the initial shock. I looked at him and frowned hoping he would just continue walking by. But NO. This guy has the gall to just stand there and decides to chat it up with me! He says, "wow, those shoes are nice. You planning on going to a wedding?"

Now. I ask you. What on gods earth am I supposed to do with this broken down, 60 plus, ex Don Juan, who needs a serious wardrobe update, staring at me in the middle of the shoe store smacking his lips and starting up the small talk?

I could have been rude and said none of your business, but for some reason my "good behavior" meter was set to high. I could have said, dude keep walking, but that may have needlessly drawn out the conversation, which I didn't have the patience for. I could have ignored him, but then again, that's not really my style.

What I should have done was thrown the shoe I had in my other hand at him while screaming, "NO YOU CAN'T LICK MY SHOE PERVERT!!!" but my mom would have been mortified. So instead I gritted my teeth, sucked it up, smiled and said, "yeah something like that." Then looked away from him and said, "Hey mom, what do you think of my shoes for the wedding?"

Yeah I know. It's a real let down. The creepy one got away without receiving his deserved humiliation. I have no excuse. But damn, he did it in front of my mom. What a sicko!

Tales from the Dark Side of Shopping

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Tue, 17 Apr 2007 02:34:00 +0000

There is something about shopping that taps into an area of the human brain which manifests itself into the most strange and bizarre behavior that I have ever personally witnessed.

People do and say the craziest shit to me when shopping. My girlfriend's explanation for this phenomenon is that I have a moron magnet embedded in my forehead.

I tend to believe her because the alternative explanation is there are so many morons that it is virtually impossible NOT to run into one every time you leave the house.

So in an act of futility, I'll be recounting these bizarro acts all week in the hopes that a public purge will demagnetize the force that attracts these morons to me. Wish me luck and may this force never be with you.

The Accidental Sale

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Sun, 15 Apr 2007 03:10:00 +0000

There's nothing better than a good sale. Unless, you run into a good sale by ACCIDENT!

My mom and I were doing a little girl bonding at our favorite shoe store and were greeted by an associate who said, "Hi. We're having a one day only special on all our discounted shoes. Take an additional 30 percent off after the initial discount. "

I look at my mom and I'm like "OH YEAH!"

Needless to say we spent the afternoon trying on every discount shoe in the joint and chatting it up with the other shoe happy gals in the aisles.

We came home with our shopping bags full and our purses devoid of currency. All in all a good Saturday.

The Practical Exotic

noreply@blogger.com (High Heel Maintenance) — Sat, 14 Apr 2007 01:14:00 +0000

This is a true story about two people.

Person M: "I really love your car. I've seen it in the parking lot at the office and it's really nice."
Person C: "Thank you. It is a beauty."
Person M: "What's it like?"
Person C: "If you like you can find out for yourself. We can take my car back to the office."
Person M: "Really? Hey person P can you take my car back to the office? I'm going back with person C."
Person P: "uh ok. sure."
Person C: "Excellent."

Narrator: Person C had taken the car for a spin around the parking lot and then decided to let person M take the wheel back to the office.

Person M : "Wow this car is so cool! It handles so nicely."
Person C: "It's great isn't it. Ok, now give it some gas on this turn. That's it. Don't worry about it slipping out from behind. It's not going anywhere. Feel how the tires are pulling the car down?"
Person M: "Yeah that's crazy. It's so smooth. Oops, I better slow down. I think I'm going 20 miles over the speed limit."
Person C: "All to frequently I let the car get away from me on the freeway. It's a a real pleasure to drive. The commute to and from work is a breeze."
Person M: "I can only imagine."
Person C: "I really wanted a car that I could commute in. It's a practical exotic."
Person M: "Sure. I can see how the Maserati would be."

And for a brief moment in Atlanta two worlds collide.