Joe may have fought the volcano.
David squared off with Goliath.
The Trojans brawled the Spartans… all sweaty and shirtless, what Hollywood never lies?!?
And Robin Hood went head to head with the Sheriff of Nottingham (ooo da lolly ooo da lolly, golly what a day—couldn’t resist)
Liz (that’s me) went head to heel, mano y zapato, toe to toe with my new boots. The weekend started bright and early on a lovely gray Saturday morning. I have been in the need for a new pair of brown boots for some time. The only ones I have are 1. 10 years old at least, 2. 4 inch heels and 3. Uncomfortable if I wear them more than 2 hours and 13.41 minutes. So it was my mission to find the perfect pair of tall brown leather boots. I started at Macy’s. Lots of cute choices and I tried on about 4 pairs, but nothing fit quite right. After that I went to seven more stores, but still nothing was working for me. You see I did what I always do. I found a picture in a catalogue (J. Jill to be exact) of the perfect boots, just like what I want. Now nowhere where I live can compete with my love for J. Jill. Every time I get a catalogue, which seems like weekly, I feel I must have one of everything in it. (I think they know so they taunt me)
You are probably wondering then why don’t you just order the boots from them. Well that is an excellent question. I may be old fashioned but I prefer trying on shoes, especially boots, before forking over $200 for them. Second, they are $200 and my money tree still hasn’t sprouted. So I was about to break down. I found a $50 coupon off a purchase of $200 which felt like a sign. I was poised ready to purchase the pretty, pretty shoes when mom calls to tell me she found me the perfect boots at the mall. Needless to say, I had my doubts. Mom always means well, but her taste is sometimes questionable or as she calls it, the kiss of death. A few hours later she is delivering shoes that are surprisingly awesome. They look a lot like the J. Jill boots only they are $80 cheaper and I can have them immediately. Bonus!
I go to try them on, but there is no zipper I just have to pull them on. I am pulling and tugging and possibly grunting , but the damn heel keeps collapsing preventing me from getting my foot all the way inside. I am now cussing and scrunching and wiggling, but the heel is still bending. I search for a shoe horn, none. I search for my back stretcher, nada. I finally settle on a wooden spoon, now sweaty and worn out, but I will not be defeated. I briefly think of Cinderella’s poor stepsisters when they are trying to get their foot in a shoe they will stop at nothing to get. Would cutting off my toes help? Then suddenly pop, my foot slides in and it’s not so bad. In fact it feels pretty good, I just need to put on the second one. I struggle for no less than thirty minutes trying to get this rat bastard on my foot, vowing never to wear these gems in an airport, when inspiration strikes. I fold down the top and voila the shoe goes right on. One hour and fifteen minutes later, I am the victor, but I may never take them off again.