Humor

One of my friends told me, after reading excerpts from my novel, that I should write something funny. Another friend said my "other" writing blog was a waste of time (where I frequently make an attempt to see the humor in things) and I should concern myself with "serious" writing. Well, ok. You decide. I've been posting the serious here, how about something a little lighter?Such as making fun of myself a bit. Like this:

So I wore my NEW SHOES today to work. Yes, that's right. I found a little black dress and beige jacket to wear, and threw on my coolest shoes EVER! I was so proud of myself, slipping along in them to my car. I slid in behind the wheel (beautiful as always---don't hate me) (and despite Y has flipped out this morning...I didn't even do anything this time...) and drove to get some coffee on the way to work. I could feel the envious eyes watching my feet as I tapped into the store. I could see the men stare at my shapely legs.

I pull into the parking lot, and get out of the car. Gingerly pointing one toe after the other. Lightly stepping on the pavement. A man in the car next to me says "Great shoes!" (I am NOT making this up!) I said "Thank You!" through my tear-stained eyes (Y's fault) and I think "Well, today might not be so bad after all." The man says "I thought you'd appreciate hearing that!" :) (his wife is VERY lucky!).

I start the long haul across the parking lot, coffee in hand, large bag over the shoulder. Suddenly the pointy toes seem unweildly. I feel like I am being pulled over by the bag. I get to the sidewalk, thinking I must look ridiculous in these shoes. I can't WALK in these. Then it happens. Is that man who complimented me still behind me?

I come down on the sole of the shoe, but not the kitten heel on my right foot. I SLIDE across cement. I go to my knee. I see people inside the building staring out (or think I do). There is a girl behind me who asks if I am ok. I tell her I am just learning to walk. Ha Ha Ha. I am embarrassed. What a goof (me).

All happy that a MAN liked my shoes and then I FALL ON MY KNEES. As though I am begging. Symbolic maybe. I get in to the building and try to salvage a little bit of pride. My knee is scraped, but somehow it's not bleeding. My coffee didn't even spill at all. That's something.

I sit down and check my email. Y's written and it's not too nice. I write back, cry at my desk, leave my I-don't-care-that-my-employer-studies-obesity-HoHo's out in the open. I don't care who sees them today. I have cool shoes, but I am sad...