Shoes with a Vengeance

A question I will never cease to ask myself is this: How can a shoe look so damn good, but hurt so bad? 

Meet my shoes with a vengeance:

         

I swear, last year when I went on a sparkly pump shopping spree, I did not intend to violently abuse my innocent feet.

I remember the day vividly.  It was just a few days before New Year's Eve and I dragged Loverboy to the mall in search for the perfect shoe to compliment my black sequin mini dress. After many strolls through nearly all the stores in Menlo Park, C and I were able to narrow the chaos that is Macy's shoe department down to two equally sparkly pairs of pumps. As with most minor crises in my life, I could not decide between the sexy silver peep toe pumps that would match my NYE dress perfectly, or the fabulous bronzed pumps that would not necessarily compliment my dress but would obviously be a weekend staple. Ugh. Shopping can be so stressful ...

As always, Loverboy came to the rescue. "Just get both." Before I could even react, he plucked the bronze shoe off my left foot and the silver shoe off my right foot and stomped over to the register. [He bought my shoes for me that day. Did I ever mention I love that boy?]

Well, I have worn the gold pair a total of two times. The first for a date during which I sat most of the time, and the second for a friend's birthday party that left my toe nail severely bruised and consequently six months of dark pedicures. 

The second pair I have worn three times.  The third time being last week in Atlantic City, and I am still suffering.

What did I do to these shoes the first two times that made them so furiously upset with me that they had to seek brutal vengeance against my feet? It has been 8 days since I wore them and I am still in pain. 

I guess I am also to blame, because I stay true to my motto that a lady never takes off her shoes. (In public, of course.) I wholeheartedly believe that the perfect pair of shoes completes an outfit; as soon as that shoe comes off on the dance floor, your outfit falls apart. Keep it classy, keep your shoes on ;) 

Like most of my beliefs, this one bit me in the butt last week as I am still donning Bandaids and cushiony socks to protect myself from the pain of evil shoes.  

Alas, the pain is dwindling and eventually my feet will be back to normal and I will have forgotten the abuse the beautiful four inches of sparkle avenged me with. It is far too easy for me to forgive a pair of pumps. I know I cannot be the only one.   

Rules of the Road: Garden State Parkway Edition.

I remember my first time driving south on the parkway as a rite of passage. Being able to drive on it, alone, with the top down, meant freedom.

 No matter the time of year, driving Parkway South evokes a feeling of elation and the burning desire to wear dark sunglasses while pumping obscenely loud music from the radio. Even if the ultimate destination isn't sandy, Parkway South still means driving "dts:" a true slice of Jersey Girl heaven.

For those of you following who are Jersey foreigners, the "Garden State Parkway" is referred to by natives simply as "The Parkway." It connects Cape May (exit 0) up to where North Jersey meets Chestnut Ridge, New York (exit 172). It hits all the shore points, and the exits are numbered according to at what mile it is located. A lot can be inferred from what exit you get off on the Parkway. When I meet someone from Jersey at Maryland, the instinctual question is always "What exit?"  If it's anything under 82, I give an apologetic head nod. If they give me an exit off the Turnpike I feel even sorrier... they must be a Westerner.

There is only one bad thing about driving southbound on the Parkway. And no, Friday rush hour traffic isn't it (at least for a convertible driver - more traffic means more sun exposure.) The only bad thing about driving Parkway South is that inevitably, eventually, you must drive Parkway North. Away from the beach, further from heaven.

Some advice for the Parkway South amateur or naive at heart: 
- The Parkway ranges from 4 lanes (damn South Jersey) to 10 lanes (thank you Central Jersey) total in both directions. Please never take the express route if you are trying to get to the beach. The expressway always only has two lanes. If there is an accident, you're screwed.  If there is a cop, you're screwed.  There is literally nowhere to go and my GPS indicates there is only one trivial minute of a difference in travel time from exit 105 to exit 131. Not worth the potential traffic.  Unless it is 3 o'clock in the morning and you are certain you are only one of five drivers within a 5 mile radius, take the local.

- Moreover, the expressway is for BENNYs and people who don't frequent the shore enough to understand the expressway is for BENNYs.  If you're a seasonal beach tagger, you take Local. Because you fit in and you know your sh*t. You're not racing to get home an hour and half away in New York, you follow traffic patterns and get home quickly in the left lane.

-Ah, the left lane. Only drive in the left lane if you are going at least twelve miles over the speed limit.  It is not for the faint of heart, nor out-of-staters.

- If you see a cop pulled over, writing some D-bag BMW driver a ticket, DO NOT SLAM ON YOUR BRAKES. Just because you are going 71 in a 65 the cop will not, I repeat, will not, drop everything he is doing to veer out into the middle of the highway and pull you over.  He is busy, and I have places to go. Carry on.

- Get an E-Z Pass.  Again, I have places to go.

- Before crossing the Verazzano, never, never, never drive in either of the outermost lanes.  The immense merging is a death zone waiting for Staten Islanders to skip five lanes (because they insisted on driving the Expressway) to get over to one of the three lanes that splits off at exit 127.  Stay central and alert. Being on the outskirts of the merger is asking for someone to cut you off at 85 mph.

See you on the Parkway - I'll be the blonde in the red convertible in the (local) left lane with the black sunglasses and blaring music. 

*Please take no offense to the rants of this proud Central Jersey Girl. This post was written all in good fun after an enjoyable drive home from the shore. Much love.