New Shoes

That's the name of a Paolo Nutini song, right? Just flashing my cultural competence a little.

Anyways, today in my boredom (and reluctance to read about torts and contracts), I went out on a bit of a shopping excursion. I had wanted to purchase an academic planner, but since even my most mundane shopping list turns into a real life issue of Consumer Reports, I ended up wandering aimlessly around Barnes and Noble for 40 minutes, froth slowly forming at the corners of my mouth, preening over one Moleskine notebook or another. Of course, my trip ended in failure, as I couldn't make up my mind over how much money I wanted to spend in comparison to what I was getting. Most shopping trips of mine end like this.

Except, on a whim, I stopped in a Famous Footwear. I've been on somewhat of a quest to either procure a pair of Birkenstocks or new sunglasses before summer ends. And to my surprise, there was a suitable pair of sandals in my size and a quality color. On sale. After quickly consulting with my mom on the wisdom of the decision, I bought them. Right on the spot. The somewhat cute checkout girl was enamored with my Union Jack Discover card, I flashed her a smile and flexed my forearms as I wrote my signature. Then promptly left, ripping the sandals out of the box on my way to the car.

I must say, these sandals are life changing. It feels like I've encapsulated my feet in like, a tiny little mattress. Or bubble wrap. Or maybe a pair of miniature hovercrafts. Honest to God, I was walking around today on them and I had to remember if I was in fact walking on my feet, or maybe just hovering a few inches off the ground. So, watch out Oneota Community Co-op. Next time I'm in Decorah, me, my earth toned clothes, and my Birkenstocks are coming in for some fuckin' granola.

I've been watching equestrian events at the Olympics. So, if you're the winning horse, do you get a gold medal? I mean, think about this. The rider isn't the one jumping over fences, you know? The horse is doing all the legwork, he's the one pumping up the heartrate. The rider is just that, along for the ride. Gives a little direction here and there, sure, but you can't say that their physical exertion is outpacing that of the horse. So, I'm hoping it's the horse that wins the medal. Maybe the rider could get a commemorative pin or something like that.

Now I'm watching some badminton. This is cool, they have men and women's mixed teams. They are playing significantly more intense badminton than what I used to play in my backyard. Quite ridiculous, actually. I'd recommend it.