5 Pairs of Shoes That Have Ruined My Night

AKA: The agony of de-feet.

This week's picture-centric post is for all you shoe-lovers out there. Plus if you have a foot fetish, this is your lucky day! Conversely, if you really hate feet, this isn't the post for you. Sorry.

I have often said throughout my life as a party girl that shoes are very powerful items. They have the potential to jazz up any outfit, make you feel feminine, flirty, or casual, and most women* that I know have at least a passing interest in finding that perfect new pair of shoes.

That being said, the power of the shoe can also be used for evil: they can torture your tootsies and ruin your night faster than you can say "blister." So many times in my life I wanted to stay out and live it up but my dogs started barking so loudly that I had to bow out or risk amputation.

The following shoes reside in my closet, but each time I look at them I am reminded of a time that they forced Baby into the corner.

Leopard Peep-Toe Pumps

I got these on sale and thought they were pretty comfy in the store. The heel isn't too high, I can walk in them, and they're feisty as hell. Wore them out to dinner and dancing on my anniversary last year and nearly broke my husband's arm leaning on him by the time we crawled back to our hotel.

Wear Count: Once.

Silver Sandals

I bought these to go with a blue dress (because what color shoes does one wear with a blue dress? I mean, really. It's one of life's little conundrums). I thought with a heel this low, they couldn't possibly hurt my feet! WRONG.

By the end of my BIL's wedding I was hobbled and cursing a streak blue enough to match my dress.

Wear Count: Two.

Black Patent-Leather Peep Toe Pumps

After trying on every shoe within a 30 mile radius, I bought these to wear to my friend's wedding in Las Vegas. The pic doesn't do them justice - they're blazing hot shoes. In them I am easily 5'10" and I got many, many compliments on them.

However, even though I got sauced enough that I should have been feeling no pain, anyone who has ever been to Vegas can tell you that you walk A LOT. After the reception we ventured out with my old college crew to hit some clubs, and halfway across the strip I suddenly felt like I might keel over right then and there. I made it into Tangerine before quietly slipping them off in the middle of the club.

It was heaven.... I didn't care that the floor was gritty and potentially full of broken glass and/or used needles, I was just glad to have those medieval torture devices off of my aching feet!

I have no idea how the bouncers found out that I was shoeless, but after they warned me twice I finally had to admit defeat, put on my shoes, and call it a night. Back at the hotel I put on my comfy old sneakers with my fancy party dress and Jim and I went back out. Because who gives a fuck? It's Vegas.

Wear Count: Once, unless you count sexy times. *WINK*

Brown Leather Ankle Boots

They're boots, right? How bad can they be?

Freaking HORRIBLE, that's how! These things actually made my left arch cramp so suddenly and painfully that I stopped mid-stride on my way to a girls' night out, turned on my heel, and changed my shoes.

Wear Count: Zero.

Black flat sandals

These sandals are the best of the worst. I just got them this summer because I was determined to get some cute black shoes WITHOUT heels. They fit the bill, and I wore them out to Get The Led Out the other weekend. They're definitely the reason that I decided not to keep the party going into the wee hours of the night; my feet were pretty sore by the end of the show and walking back to the crap shack wasn't comfortable. However, they're really not terrible except for one little fact: the tip of one of my toes has been numb ever since I wore them.

I don't think that's right.

Didn't stop me from wearing them again today, though. *grin*

Wear Count: Two, and counting.

This, folks, is why when I really want to keep my stamina and endurance up for a night on the town, I wear Vans and have done so since high school. They're not just for sk8ters anymore, I swear! They even make girly ones now.





* My dear friend Mala is one of the few women I know who will wear a pair of shoes to tatters and still insist that they are suitable for any occasion. Sure, she can rock a nice pair of heels from time to time, but most of the time she's sporting these puppies. And folks - these are the upgraded version of a pair that I finally shamed her into retiring, but I'd bet dollars to donuts that she still didn't throw them out.

The Meat Market: who's on & who's off?

It seems that nothing is quite as cyclical as Hollywood romances. New couples pop up among celebrities like dandelions on my freshly-mowed front lawn, and when the weeds are mowed over a week later ten more couples crop up in their place.

Recently we've had some big break-ups, so I thought I'd do a handy little scorecard for those of you keeping track at home. Who is currently footloose & fancy-free and who is still tied to the ol' ball and chain? Naturally, I can't cover all of them, but there are a few biggies that come to mind first-thing. Let's go to there.

Back on the market*

Sandra Bullock and Jesse James officially ended their marriage last month. Can you blame her? The dude screwed around with every embarrassing skank under the rock sun.

Here's hoping Sandy has better luck next time!





They kept it Common Law for twenty-three years, but last summer these two enigmatic beautiful people called it quits, leaving the rest of us shlubbs to wonder if long-term monogamy is really possible at all.





Mel Gibson and Oksana Grigorieva split up amidst swirling controversy and more allegations that he's a misogynistic (and let's not forget anti-Semitic) douchebag.





Good news for guys who like beautiful, talented, 420-friendly actresses! Charlize Theron and her boyfriend of 9 years, Stuart Townsend, broke up.






By all accounts, Jim Carrey has been clinging to his remaining shred of sanity for decades now and Jenny McCarthy is a few sandwiches short of a picnic, so it shocked no one when they got together and dated for five years.

What did shock us was when they broke up last April. If those two crazy kids can't make it work, is there any hope for the rest of us? (Yes, I'm kidding)





The "seven-year itch" is alive and well, apparently. Sam Mendes and Kate Winslet had no other reason for ending their seven year union other than they "grew apart," which I think is code for, "wanted to sleep with other people."

Why would anyone give up Kate Winslet? I can't imagine.



*No, I'm not mentioning the recent Bachelor break-up because
A) I don't watch that shit
B) I don't care, and
3) They're not real celebrities, IMO.

Off the market

Sorry, fellas, Megan Fox is officially a married lady. She wed former 90210 "star" Brian Austin Green last weekend.







I must be the only person on the planet who doesn't watch Glee, but I do love Jane Lynch! I've laughed along with her screwball, straight-faced antics through all of the Christopher Guest films and quoted her lines from The 40 Year Old Virgin.

Jane recently wed her long term girlfriend Dr. Lara Embry. WTG, Jane - landing a doctah! Congratulations.




Mena Suvari, who I will always be fond of because of her role in one of my favorite movies, American Beauty, married a twenty-five year old concert producer named Simone Sestito in Italy last weekend.

If this photo is any indication, any resulting children will definitely inherit the unfortunate five-head gene. Ouch.




Han Solo and Ally McBagel tied the knot after dating for eight years (and acquiring a rather unfortunate and inexplicable old man earring).

Congrats to the happy couple! Let's hope Calista lays off the plastic surgery and tucks into some carbs now that she has snagged herself a hottie!

Recently engaged celebs (AKA not yet officially off the market)

Kellie Pickler
Carrie Underwood
Orlando Bloom
America Ferrara
Valerie Bertinelli

That's all I've got, and my fingers are sore from all this Googling (that's what she said!). Who did I miss?

Musical (and Muse-ical) Monday

Hey there! How does this Monday morning find you? I hope you're all feeling groovy and ready to rock this week out like I am! If not, never fear; I've got a cure for what ails ya'. I've got a cool song and video to implant in your head for at least a day, along with my typical random blatherings to (hopefully) entertain you.

No need to thank me; I did it all for the nookie.

My weekend was pretty sweet. On Saturday morning Mala and I dumped our kids with my darling husband and went for pedicures at a local shi-shi salon, complete with Pina Coladas and plenty of chit-chat about Twilight versus (the way cooler, IMO) True Blood, then we had lunch and took the kids to the lake to burn off what remained of their moxie. It was supremely relaxing and a great belated celebration for Mala's birthday!

On Sunday we did a family clean-out of the toy situation, which felt GOOD. Seriously, taking out two trash bags full of broken toys, Happy Meal junk, and irreparably-sticky doo-dads felt better to me than a week of foot rubs. We also put away three big boxes of toys that the boys don't play with anymore; we are saving them up for Jim's brothers, who both have plans to procreate with their wives within the next year or so.

DAMN, it felt good to be a gangsta to clean out the crap!


On to the fun Monday morning pick-u-ups!

I have been humming the song Bulletproof by La Roux for weeks now, and imagine my delight when I found that the video is cool enough to be OOBH-worthy! It's as if someone morphed Tilda Swinton with Jimmy Neutron, added a dollop of David Bowie, and dropped the resulting hipster into a 1980's electronica meets MC Escher landscape.

Exhibit A:

It rocks, which is sayin' something because all singer Elly Jackson does in the video is walk. Yet, she looks way cool doing it. Check it out:

Pretty neat, huh? I dig it. Good luck getting that song out of your head.

The world has a new Ugliest Dog! Congratulations to Princess Abby, the inbred Chihuahua who won that dubious honor this weekend.



Awww, she's... well, she's... I'm sure she's very sweet. She's also a good reminder to take Bob Barker's advice. No, not the advice that he no doubt gives about not sleeping with the Price Is Right models without having a gag order signed in advance, this advice:

The Price is WRONG, bitch!

That's it for now, cuties. It's shaping up to be a busy week in Bev-land, but never fear. I'll be around. Have a happy day!

OOBH Stew: TGI-muthalovin-F Edition

Greetings, Bloglings!

What a craptastic week! I'm sooooo glad it's Friday. This week was full of fail and full of suck, and I admit that I had some soul-searching to do as a result of the suck.



Then I remembered... I am LA BEV. I am fabulous! What they hell am I bitching about? No one can take away my fabulosity!


Now drink up, bitches! It's the weekend!



Which brings us to the first ingredient in our Stew this week:

Stuart Smalley was on to something.

Right you are, my man. Right you are.

Kathy Griffin cannot blink.

I caught a few minutes of the new season of her show, My Life on the D-List the other night, and whoa. I'd say it was eye-opening but that would be redundant. When she does the video commentaries she has an unfortunate habit of making a facial expression that involves partially closing her eyes and rolling them at the same time. It's hard to explain and I can't find a video clip, so just take my word for it: it's horrific. She can't close her eyes all the way! How does she sleep? I don't get it!

Don't get me wrong, I actually like her. I know a lot of people don't care for her but her comedy always makes me laugh and I love her stand-up specials. She's also very much herself all the time, I don't think it's an act, so I dig that about her too. But jeez, ladycakes... lay off the surgery for a while! You're starting to resemble Kenny Rogers and Joan Rivers, and that's not a good thing.

Move over, KFC's Double (Cardiac) Down, there's a new artery-clogger in town!

Friendly's Grilled Cheese Burger Melt.
1,500 calories. 97 (!!) grams of fat. 2,090 grams of sodium

For those who aren't familiar with Friendly's restaurants, they're a diner-type chain here in the northeast that specializes in ice cream. Most of their meals include a free sundae, which they call a (heh heh) "Happy Ending." The food is standard diner fare, and the kids LOVE it.

The other day they unveiled their newest attempt to fatten up the collective paunches of Americans. It's a hamburger, but instead of buns it has... wait for it... two grilled cheese sandwiches. Two. Grilled cheese. Sandwiches. AND a burger. And fries.

Fuck you, Friendly's. Aren't we fat enough?

Snoop Dogg is having a(nother) moment.

I can't help but notice that everyone's favorite perpetually-stoned Doggfather is everywhere.

First he got his Willy Wonka on in Katy Perry's "California Gurls" video.




Then he hopped on the True Blood bandwagon and brought us the sweetly-campy "Oh Sookie" video.

"Try to read my mind, you might get wet."

Then he randomly popped up in this funny Adidas Star Wars ad:



I want HIS agent! Also, I want David Beckham to play on my team. And by "team," I mean in my pants. Yowza!

That's it for this week. Hope you all have a lovely weekend!
XOXO

Wordless Wednesday

Hey all! I'm heading out to spend some quality time with my crazy kids and invalid husband (he is recovering from throwing his back out and having a bad flu bug), so I'm just popping in to say howdy!

Wednesday will really be sorta wordless today. Whaddya know?

My kids have been on summer vacation for less than a week and we already have our first casualty:



Lamp shade: 0, giant bouncing ball (NOT IN THE HOUSE!): 1.

Have a happy HUMP day!

From the Vault: Classic Clips

Hey now! Yesterday was shitty and I feel deflated and headache-y today. Boo!

It's cool, though - don't cry for me, Argentina. I will dust off my self-confidence and relocate my happy vibes, I promise!



Until then, I'm slacking off and showing some classic movie clips that I enjoyed during my very happy childhood and adolescence. I'm also throwing in a few old pics because... well, why the fuck not? That's why.

Who wears short-shorts? I did!

My sister and I loved those kittehs! I was probably about 9 in this picture, which means that some of my favorite movies were:

The 1959 comedy classic Some Like It Hot

This clip is kind of long, I know, but you'll have to trust me when I tell you that it's funny and worth watching. The gist of the story is that two struggling big band musicians (Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis) witness a brutal mob crime and decide to disguise themselves as women in a traveling girl-only band.

What I love about this clip is that it's a reminder that though times have certainly changed in the last 51 years, some things never change - men ogle women (and with Marilyn Monroe on board, how could they not?), they party, and they tell bawdy jokes. Plus, men in drag! More proof that classic humor never goes out of style.

Arthur (1981)

Dudley Moore plays a permanently-drunk millionaire who falls in love with a petty thief (Liza Minelli) who somehow still has better values than he does. This movie contains some of the best lines ever written. Truth.

La Bev at 16.

Observant (and long-time) readers of OOBH might recognize that purple tie-dye. I told ya that shirt was old!

Stripes (1981)

"Don't call me Francis."



My man Bill Murray is a down-and-out cab driver who decides to join the army with his friend Russell (Harold Ramis) because they basically have nothing better to do. Hilarity ensues.

Btw, this is why I sometimes say, "You just made the list!" when someone pisses me off. Now ya' know.

I could go on all day, but I'll stop now and save some clips for the next time I'm phoning it in down in the dumps!

I'll leave you with two ID cards I unearthed recently. The first is from high school and I was 14. The second was taken sophomore year of college when I was 20. The only thing that hasn't changed much about me in almost twenty years? My hairstyle. I should get on that.



Nah, I fear change.

Ok, lovelies! I shall check in wit'choo latah. Let's all do our best Scarlett O'Hara impression and say, "After all, tomorrow is another day!"

Jabba, Smiley, and a Shack of Crap

Good morning! What's shakin', cute people of the interwebz? Not too much going on here; just struggling to clear the cobwebs from my noggin! It sure was hard to get out of bed this morning.

Can't imagine why.

Crap Shack, party of 7!

We rented a cottage near the shore that turned out to be the shittiest place EVER and we all did our best not to touch anything. I was seriously concerned about bed bugs, but thankfully the sheets and towels were clean even if the floor wasn't. The walls were paper thin; if you tapped on the wall the whole thing shook. Mala & Joe had a gaping hole in the ceiling of their room, and M&E's room slanted noticeably towards one corner. It was like a fun house!

Luckily we were barely there and it was a place to crash, though as Jim and I lay down on our glorified sofa bed and listened to the loud college kids partying in our front yard (which sounded like they were in the room with us due to the aforementioned thin walls) we both started giggling uncontrollably.

I didn't take pictures because it was just too horrifying, but I'll describe it to you with my mad English skillz:

Our room contained a lumpy double bed, a dresser, a bare light bulb with the string dangling from the center of the room, and a rather pungent odor. I shudder to think about what sorts of things have gone on in that "house" every weekend, but let the record show that when Mala arrived and turned on the TV it was tuned to a porno channel. That explains why the wooden arms of the dilapidated (circa 1978) sofa were STICKY. Seriously, I have slept in cleaner frat houses.

The cost of one night in Slumsville? A mere $250/night (split 3 ways). FML!

I need a miracle.

But ANYWAY. As soon as we fought our way through the shore traffic (took us 45 minutes to go a quarter of a mile) we got the party started, at which point I remembered that I was a bird brain left our two tickets to the show at home. *FACE-PALM* I carried those goddamn tickets in my purse for TWO MONTHS, but the day of the show I decided to carry a smaller purse.... FML again!

Thankfully, the show was not sold out and it was nothing that a short walk and another $40 couldn't fix. Sigh.

Jabba wants his money.

The band was great and since it was general admission we wormed our way right up front again. The only bummer was Jabba, who was easily 6'4" yet insisted upon standing in the front row, and even when we tried to move several feet to his left or right he seemed to migrate so that he was always right in front of one of us. He was a hulking, disapproving WALL of a man, and he was stubbornly in our way all night.

Nice bum, where you from?

The music was awesome!

Close your eyes and it's the real thing, and definitely the closest thing to really seeing Zeppelin that we'll ever get.

The Battle of Evermore was epic.

Mmm, smokey.

I'll have what he's having!

The bass player, who we dubbed "Smiley," was a trip. He had perfected the "rock star stance" and was clearly enjoying every minute of the show. He had this huge shit-eating grin and kept making eye contact with audience members, including yours truly. It was fun but a little awkward; I'd smile back but then he'd just keep on grinning at me until I kind of danced behind Jabba to hide. One time it went on so long that everyone in my group noticed and were laughing about it, and I took this picture:

Slappin' da bass!

That little bit of contact was NOTHING compared to what Mala got after the show, however! She stood in line to meet the band while the rest of us hung back (I had had enough contact with Smiley during the show, thankyouverymuch), and she got a chance to chat it up with her crush, the keyboardist/guitar player (and Grade A Hottie).

While we waited for Mala to stop shamelessly flirting we admired the mural of famous folks behind the bar. We decided this is George "C3PO" Carlin:



The next morning we eagerly skipped out of the Crap Shack and went home. I spent most of my day watching the kids play in their kiddie pool and reading trashy magazines before moving on to a trashy novel. I started reading Secret Diary of a Call-Girl, which is the book that inspired the sexy Showtime series. I'm only about 40 pages in but already I can tell you that it's a decent read, doesn't require a lot of brain power, and is absolutely filthy! So of course, I dig it.

So that's all the news that's fit to report. Good times, as always! Now it's back to the grind. Gotta find something else to look forward to; it sure does help to get me through the week.