Sandalism - Shop and Awe

Sandalism : When your favorite pair of shoes get vandalized.

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I was very proud of myself that I had created a bumper sticker. I had always wanted to create my own bumper sticker. It was like being a part of the sixties, only with better hair cuts. My mother didn't really seem to get what it was about, but she did wonder if there was any money to be made in bumper stickers. Any new project I took on - making one bumper sticker was a project according to my mother - she had to ask: "Do you think you can sell these things?" A few months back I made a Birthday card for a friend and she asked: "Do you think you can sell these things?".

I was barely out of the house when I noticed my bumper sticker had been defiled. Knew And Improved had been scratched out and over it was written New and Improved. I wasn't sure what it meant but I was starting to sense a theme. I would eventually have to get to the bottom of this but for now, I needed to buy myself a new pair of shoes. Well, barter for a new pair of shoes. I wasn't in the habit of spending a lot of money on shoes like the gals in Smutty Girls, but right now I couldn't spend any money. I had to go for cheap not Choo. Bartering seemed like as good an option as any. I brought a few old dresses and an electric guitar. This probably wasn't going to work, so I would probably have to use my Visa card, but a girl could try.

On my way to the shoe store on Downtown street, I noticed several stickers on the bus shelter: Obsessively Annoying. Somebody was out to get me. Why I felt it was directed at me, I could not say. I did have the habit of looking at myself a few too many times in the mirror - a neurosis rather than vanity. Bumper stickers had become my enemy. Something to obsess about. It's not as if I didn't have enough to obsess about. Between obsessing over whether my last column offended somebody, or whether the last thing I blurted out at a dinner party caused somebody to frown (or blush) - like your legs are too long for your body, there was always something to obsess about. Mazel Snog kept me up a night. But being stubborn, I wasn't going to rewrite the Mazel Snog column, even if they were protesting outside my front door. I would live with the shame. "I slept with someone Jewish once, I' m an authority," I would shout, but they never listened. I guess I couldn't blame them for speaking their minds. Okay he never really shouted Mazel Tov during sex, I just really like the expression and needed to make a pun. Again, a compulsion. I'm sorry if I've offended anyone.

Anyways, I was just thinking to myself as I got on the bus that writing was liberating except for when you had writer's block. Then writing wasn't so liberating. I was thinking this because I had tried to finish the column I started last week, and was met with writer's block. And this witicism came to me and it made me feel like a writer who had really smart things to say and could make people laugh as opposed to my usual self who was at times monosyllabic. I even went through a short period when all I ever really said was Yup and nope. Antidepressants were involved. I'll provide examples of my character later when I introduce you to new characters and situations. Anyways, I was thinking about how writing could make you feel like you're soaring above ground, in the sky, like a bird, but writer's block made me feel like I was stuck on a slow moving train. Obsessively Annoying had a similar effect on me.

Then again, maybe it wasn't about me at all.

The sales clerk didn't really seem keen on the idea of bartering until she heard me tell the other sales clerk about my blog. "Oh you're a writer?" she inquired. "Yes I am. Not a very good one." She laughed. She thought I was kidding. I wasn't. Maybe there is something you can do for me.

cliffhanger

Well Red - The Knew Enlightenment

When your mother starts examining the clothes you're wearing, you know you're in trouble. She's not looking at them for the usual suspects - holes and unwashed stains - she's looking at them for signs they were made in a sweatshop. I think the lefties may have abducted my mother and replaced her with a clone with a conscience. I'm not sure what's going on - but a fight ensued. They may be punishing me for the sarong story. Somebody may have handed her a copy of No Logo. Who knows? They have not come forward with their demands. Needless to say, my mother is not the protesting kind - she has only recently discovered the reusable shopping bag.

It may have something to do with the fact that the anti-cheap brigade - a small group of protestors - believed you should practice what you preach. Like Diana said, my source on my cheap labor story, If you're not wearing clothes made out of your bedspreads or shopping at Canadian Apparel, they don't like you. Indeed, making clothes out of sheets had become a bit of a trend. That could explain a lot of things, I thought. I had never really stopped to check whether my clothes were clean, as they called sweatshop free, as there were too many sales. But after a lot of "Did you know?" , as in these women work 15 hour days, these women make in a month, what you make in a day, did you know a river was polluted to make this dress, etc., the guilt does start to creep in. I won't ever walk into Canadian Apparel and ask if they ever have any sales, like I did last Boxing Day.

It could also explain the rise in marxist-leninist customer service representatives who are not exactly thrilled when you ask them if there are any sales. Or bumper stickers with the words Well Red.

I caught a glimpse of such a bumper sticker jogging down the street the other day. I thought I was back in California - the capital of bumper stickers. Well Red. I could only view this as an affront. They must have read my Red Rage column and decided to retaliate. It's a play on words: well read. As in, liberal arts educated people are well read. So and so is well read - it is intended as a compliment. I once admired somone for being well read. Well red, I assumed meant being informed about social justice. Project Red came to mind. The movie Reds. Suddenly the image of Bono and Warren Beatty being mad at me caused me great anxiety and I thought hard to come up with my own bumper sticker.

"Knew and improved" was what I came up. I'm sticking it on my mailbox. I doubt, however, I will ever wear my bedspreads any time soon.


Pinkgrapefruit
30% fun, 70% conscientious. or
30 % conscientious, 70 % fun