I feel like I have to say this every damn time, because people don’t think for themselves: If there’s a boot this big laying around it’s because somewhere nearby there is a very angry giant with one bare foot. YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SEEN MESSING WITH HIS BOOT WHEN HE FINDS IT, or he will straight-up step on you. What is wrong with you people?
American tastes have done nothing but escalate over the past five decades; since the first highway was laid down, it has been a one-way societal trip to ever bigger portions, desires, needs, wants. The seeds that Ray Kroc planted have grown into a super-sized tree of gluttony, excess and insatiable desires.
Oh sure, it’s all fun and games to go sitting inside one of these giant shoes and saying “Hey, take a picture of me! Look at me! I’m sitting in a giant shoe!” Congratulations. Good for you. But somewhere, probably not far away, there’s a morbidly large Dutch boy who can’t play on the baseball team because of his size, and he sheds a tear, not just for the jerk you are but for the fact that he can’t find his giant yellow curly-toed shoe.
One time my uncle Kool-Aid decided he wasn’t going to shower for a year, to protest gasoline prices. Kool-Aid wasn’t the best smelling guy to start with, and this little protest of his didn’t help matters. By the end of month six, he had stuff growing in his shoes – mushrooms, I believe they were. God, it was awful.
Man, look at this booty! Exactly what kind of foot is this monster going to go on, huh? You tell me. Perhaps it is a creature whose lower extremity is so huge, he only needs one of them. OH MY GOD.
Helllloooo ladies! Love the sight of this. This woman is not only enormous in scale, she is also huge in bravery and social comfort – here she is, laying on her back inside some sort of retail establishment, her fishnetted legs sticking out the window for all below and above to enjoy! I gotta start shopping there.
I am a forgiving person, a gentle soul I assure you, but I don’t think I can ever forgive Kirsti Baumgartner. A young man’s heart is a fragile thing, Kirsti, and when that young man buys you an iron-on from the snack bar and gives it to you during couples skate, you don’t just walk away without saying anything. And I damn sure won’t ever forgive Mr. Johnston the maintenance man, who had the boys’ bathroom locked that day when I crapped in my pants.
COUPLES SKATE! It is on. You tell me – is there anything hotter than a good-looking blonde, skating backwards while Foreigner’s “Double Vision” is pumping? Hell no there isn’t, and you’re wrong if you say there is. Just imagine the hotness coming off of a blonde skating backwards in this thing! Only problem: we’d need to find a second skate, as well as a sufficiently large blonde.