Tuesday, May 31, 2005


In one of my first non-mandatory ventures outside the flat since becoming ill, 10 minutes ago I was standing in a liquor store in high heels.

There's not even an amusing story leading up to it. I couldn't find my shoes anywhere and I had to pick up some stuff for Natalie, who came over tonight to cook a massive dinner. I saw the high heels (left by David when he visited) and knew what I had to do. When I got there, I realized I didn't have my wallet so I had to wait for Rosie to bring me some money. In the meantime, the gay boy in high heels tried to make small talk with the staff at Victoria Wine.

"At least I brought my passport!" I offered.

"Yeah," replied the guy behind the counter, staring at my shoes.

"Last time I was here, they wanted to see my passport and I had to go all the way back home and get it," I explained. I even laughed to indicate that this information was supposed to be amusing.

"Okay," he mumbled.

"Whatever, bitch! You don't know what I've been through in these heels! I've killed a man!" I didn't say that. We stood there in silence for 100 years, which was actually like five minutes. We cleared our throats periodically. It was like that.

I didn't even get Natalie's stuff when Rosie got there. She didn't have enough money. So we ran out of the liquor store and made a break for the flat. Well, Rosie got out quite speedily, and I awkwardly limped out of the shop behind her. How do women do it?


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