Ok, but seriously....

I feel guilty for the amount of joy in my heart right now.

I seriously do not feel that this much joy should be encompassing me unless I'm being involved in an experience that is exclusively a religious one.

But every time I look at my new Airwalk-laden feet, I feel joy.

We're talking serious, serious amounts of joy.

These shoes are so damn comfy! And so damn cute! I used to wear this brand of shoe when I was thirteen and fourteen. They were all the rage at the time. And now I'm wondering why, for the last several years, I've been wearing running shoes at all.

I don't run. I may hasten my pace if someone says "Hey! Let's go to McDonald's!" I will definitely speed up if someone says "Let's go grab a beer!" Occasionally I make a mad dash to the couch if I'm late to make the first few minutes of Survivor. And sometimes I trot across the street when the little flashy hand tells me to stop crossing.

But run? Nevah. So why have I been paying for the expense of running shoes for the last few years?

These shoes also have incredibly sticky soles. I was crossing an ice patch on campus yesterday after my sex class (The ice patches on campus drive me to the brink of insanity, considering that I'm paying them thousands of dollars each year, and salt costs, like, pennies... but that's another rant) and I wasn't in danger of falling! And for me? I fall everywhere I go. I fly through the air and land in slushy puddles of mud and ice like it's my job. But on the ice patch? I was planted on firm ground.

Nothing makes me happier than being planted on firm ground, let me tell you.

Toonses