Wednesday, December 6, 2006

Adios Mr. Leprechaun (and Mr. Rumsfeld)

Contrary to popular belief, Leprechauns aren’t always Irish. Some of 'em are English. Surprised? I didn’t know this either, until The Brit walked into my life…donning nearly decade-old black leather shoes accentuated with atrocious gigantic silver buckles. (Lucky for him, he has dimples that distract one from looking at his shoes too much.) I thought, early on, about the pros of dating a leprechaun. There are many, as it turns out. Rainbows. Endless Lucky Charms. (They’re magically delicious!) Three wishes. And I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d find a pot of gold somewhere! But, alas, after two years of dating…I’ve yet to reap any of the benefits those hideous shoes implied I might. And when The Brit pulled them out of the closet the other day to wear in public, I recoiled as I looked at them…their rubber soles coming unglued from the front end of both shoes. Uh uh.

When I told him these shoes needed to be incinerated and then flown out to space (or put into a time capsule to be laughed at by our children in the future), he looked at me incredulously and said, in earnest, “What’s wrong with them? They’re REAL leather!"

Real leather, perhaps. But more importantly, real ugly.

So yesterday after work, under the guise of “Christmas Shopping,” I cunningly directed him to a great shoe store where we found replacements not only for the leprechaun shoes but for another almost-as-detestable pair as well.

Fire up the incinerator. Get the space craft prepared for lift off.

Also replaced today, Donald Rumsfeld by Robert Gates. Let's hope this new secretary of defense is as dramatic an improvement as The Brit's new shoes are.

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