Always Anna

So, the second job has been taking up all my time – I worked 14 hours of overtime last week!  I was so tired that I slept for thirteen hours on Friday night – I haven’t slept that much since college!  Those 13 hours, when added to the 10 hours on Saturday night and the 10 hours last night (I went to bed early), made me feel GREAT this morning.  Refreshed.  Happy.  Then, I logged into Yahoo to check out my fantasy sports stats.

I lost.  To the worst team in the league.  My good mood flew right out the window.

In my 14-team all-girls league, I had been sitting pretty in 3rd place… in spite of the fact that my #1 draft pick, Shaun Alexander, has been suffering from the Madden curse.  Then came this week…  I am currently down 10 points to the WORST team in the league.  This team had been 0-7 – she hadn’t won a single game this year!  She DROPPED TO, then Rex Grossman so far this year!  She routinely forgets to start players, and refuses to trade any of her TEs away, even though she has 5 on her team!

I am dying of embarassment.  DYING.

If you’ll excuse me, I have to go spank my team.  They need to get their asses back in gear. 

Yesterday I went beyond the land of bad taste, passed by the country of fashion victimhood, and entered directly into the depths of fashion hell…

I wore white sneakers with my work outfit.

But it’s not my fault!  You know how much I HATE this look – I am (contrary to some people’s opinions) NOT a Working Girl. 

I started out the day in a normal work outfit – red knit top, black pants, and black heels.  The heels were a little bit old – I bought them about 3 years ago – but I don’t wear them that often because they’re a little too big.  But my favorite black heels were getting repaired, so I busted out the back-up pair.  Anyways, I was tap-dancing in the kitchen as I filled up my water glass (I entertain my office on a regular basis) and suddenly lurched over, dropping my glass and falling into the refrigerator.  No, I wasn’t drunk.  But my heels were:

Obviously I’d taken my extra pair of heels home the week before, and since the rest of the women in my office wear shoes at least 2 sizes larger than mine, I was left with no option but to wobble around the office in my broken heel.  Luckily, most of the day was spent in meetings, so I was able to sit down a lot.  But as the day wound down, I started wondering… How was I going to walk to the subway, take it home, and walk the quarter-of-a-mile home? 

As I tried to tape the heel back on my shoe, the company president walked by and witnessed my hysterics.  Literally, I was laughing like a freakin’ crazy person as I tried to scotch tape my heel.  As luck would have it, she had a pair of sneakers in her office (only 1.5 sizes too big!) and let me borrow them to trudge home. 

Obviously I’m grateful for her kindness.  But I don’t think I’ll forget the horror of the white sneaks any time soon.

Shudder.

As I flipped through the October issue of In Style magazine, I came across an article entitled “How to Walk in High Heels.”  I smirked.  I chuckled.  I mean, I’ve been wearing heels since 6th grade.  And while I do occassionally have mishaps (that usually involve a heel getting caught in a street grate or a cobblestone sidewalk), I couldn’t help but think, “What woman doesn’t know how to walk in high heels?”  Sure, it takes a little getting used to if all you’ve ever worn is flats, but… it’s just walking.  It’s not that hard. 

As I flipped past the first page, with it’s large photo of a shoe, I found step-by-step instructions (literally), complete with photos, demonstrating – you guessed it – how to walk in high heels.  I rolled my eyes and skimmed down the page to the box that lists the experts that In Style consulted for this article.  And there it was.  The first name in the box. 

J. Alexander.

Miss J is one of the many things I love about America’s Next Top Model.  His flamboyance and attitude crack me up, and I love when he helps the models develop their signature walk.  So obviously, his advice on walking is something I had to read.

So I went back up to the step-by-step instructions.  And learned that I don’t walk correctly in heels.

I don’t think you can properly imagine my horror at learning that “striding in a normal heel-to-toe motion can snap a stiletto or twist an ankle.”  Are you kidding me? I thought.  Is that why I wobble sometimes?  AH! The instructions went on to say “Instead, take short steps, going down evenly on the ball of the foot and the heel.”  Evenly?  But that’s… that’s… that’s like marching!  Ooh, that must be why models have signature walks.  So they don’t wobble. 

So, I’ve spent the last few days trying to walk correctly in my heels.  I don’t think it’s been very attractive – the first day involved me marching to the T station in a fairly military manner.  But it’s getting easier.  And now, when I grow 6 inches, I’ll be ready to get in the running to become America’s Next Top Model.

Compliments of my America (The Calendar) Daily Calendar:

May the rest of you have a lovely day off from work. I’ll be toiling away at my desk for the next 8 hours.

I’ve spent almost all my spare time over the last 2 days (not as much as I would like, as my spare time is disappearing faster than Superman flies, but still a lot of time) tidying and cleaning and reorganizing and shopping.  Why, you ask?

Because my mom is coming out from California to see me.  And I need to try and fool her into thinking I am a grown-up.

This is what I imagine I will say when she walks into my apartment: “Look mom, my floors have been vaccuumed!  The shelves have been dusted!  I have more than cheese and condiments in my fridge!  I have VEGETABLES!  And look at how the pillows are plumped on the couch!  And my CDs are stacked neatly by genre!  And I have no dirty laundry because I do laundry all the time!”

Tonight?  I’ve saved the grossest for last – I have to clean the bathroom.  Once that’s done, I’ll be able to add, “Look, the bathroom is so clean you could DRINK the toilet water and EAT off the tub floor!”

For the most part, I consider myself a pretty flexible, open person.  When it comes to academic and political subjects, I’m good at looking at both sides of an issue, and am always willing to learn more.  I like this side of myself. 

That said, when it comes to pop culture, I have a very stubborn streak, and can cling to totally unfounded ideas for no particular reason.  I clung to my love of New Kids on the Block a full year after everyone else dropped them.  I defended Britney Spears constantly, only facing the truth of her trashiness after she showed the horrifyingly bad taste to marry Federline.  I fought metallic accessories for the last two years, only embracing their cool rock-and-roll vibe in the last 9 months or so.  And I have refused – flat out refused – to buy Steve Madden shoes EVER, just because one friend of mine had a couple pairs of SM shoes fall apart after less than a year of wear.

So what if SM shoes were cute and comfortable?  I didn’t care that they were pretty reasonably priced.  I convinced myself that they were too expensive to justify poor quality (unlike Payless) and never bought a pair.  I refused to even try them on.  Well, last week, my SM embargo ended.  Why?  Because, after two months of searching, they were the only pair of gray suede pumps I could find that suited me.

Now, I might accept SM shoes.  But I will never – never - buy Jessica Simpson shoes.  How tacky!