I fell for him on S.A.D.

Okay. This is all true. The names of the innocent have been changed, everyone else is named by name.

To tell this story, I have to tell that story. So folks, go get a snack and a glass of wine (I have a glass of Big Ass Chardonnay), this is going to take a few minutes...

Let's start with last week...

Last week, Mini-Me had to get some work done on her truck. Specifically, she needed to have her tires checked. Preferring (like me) to support local business instead of Wally World, she chose our local joint, Newman Tire Company. (BTW, I bought Tough Lucy's new tires at NTC when I got back from Jamaica... not at WalMart. Also BTW, Paper Boy used to be their shop manager, so he knows the character in this story. And all he did was laugh and laugh when these two stories happened.)

Newman's did right by me, and they did right by Mini-me. They picked up Mini-Me's truck(try getting Wally to do that). They investigated her leaky tire situation. Diagnosis? She did not need new tires, she just needed new valve stems. The whole problem was leaky valve stems. So instead of a few hundred bucks, she got out of that deal with her wallet intact. When they called to discuss the situation, the manager (we'll call him Michael... 'cause that's his name) started hitting on her. She laughed and told him she didn't think her husband (who's really a boyfriend, but she wasn't going to even go there), myJohn, would like her going out on a date with him. Did this stop the guy though? Say it with me girls... NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! He kept right on going. When he delivered the truck back to the clinic (try getting Wally to do that!) he hands Mini-Me his card and says "If you need anything, just give me a call." On the back of the card, he has written his personal cell number and to give him a call if she needs anything... *wink wink* Poor Michael. He just didn't get it. Mini-Me + myJohn = not-interested-in-Michael.

So I told you that story so I could tell you this story...

Fast forward to today. (and take a potty break, or get a refill if you need to)

My fuschia latigo Dansko shoes arrive in the mail. (Props to Mom and Gram for their birthday $ contribution to my newest fun work shoes!) I wear all black (as promised) to work, but with the caveat of my NEW fuschia shoes.

I get home and immediately take my dog out for his evening run. This means I opened the door, leashed Pooh King, grabbed my bike, and started pedaling... in my NEW fuschia shoes.

As I rounded the bottom of the apartment complex, this guy walking a lhasa apso (or however you spell it) starts talking to me. Now, I pass this guy a few nights a week, and he always says "hi" but tonight, he starts a full-on conversation. At this point, Pooh King loses his mind and runs right in front of my bike (right to left) to go confront the dude who is interrupting our run. I have to cram on the brakes to keep from running over him. I FLIP MYSELF OVER THE HANDLE BARS and land belly down, sliding-into-home-plate-style. I know... hail Tiffany full of grace. *shakes her head in disbelief... while still laying on the ground*

Dude: Oh, are you okay?
Me: Yes, I'm fine. (In head... f*ck, f*ck, f*ck! My NEW fuschia shoes!!!!! which, by the way, are severly scarred from the accident.)

Dude: Well, you fell gracefully.
Me: Sure. Thanks. (but my shoes! I've ruined my new fuschia shoes!)

(at this point, I feel the need to remind all of you that I'm still FACE DOWN ON THE GROUND!)

Dude: What are you doing tonight? I mean, after the ride.
Me: Avoiding the general public. (My new fuschia shoes!)

Dude: Where do you live?
Me: Far over in the other corner. (Oh, my poor, poor, innocent shoes!)

Dude: When did you move here?
Me: In August, and I'm moving away in April. I work short term contracts. (Seriously? Can't you see I hurt my shoes?)

Dude: Oh, what do you do? I'm the manager of Newman Tire Company. (Which he proceeds to work into the rest of the conversation about 4 more times.)
Me: I'm a physical therapist. I work for the hospital. (but no matter what, I can't help my shoes.)

Dude: I think I was over there the other day.
Me: (O.M.G. it's Michael!!!) Yes, I think you did some work on my friend's truck.

Dude: Yep, I sure did. (Does not know, or does not care that I know he hit on my friend.)
Me: That's what I heard. Okay, I have to go now. (gets on bike, broken shoes and all, and pedals away.)

Seriously? The guy was walking his lhasa apso in a short sleeved shirt. It's 35 degrees. He hit on me while I was face down on the ground. He didn't pick the bike up off of me. He didn't even inquire about my NEW FUSCHIA shoes. I couldn't possibly be with a man like that.

Then I ate my very own S.A.D. dinner. KFC original recipe. Don't you judge me.And the best part? My bottle of Big Ass Chardonnay. See? I wasn't joking.

Now I have to call Dansko and see if they make a fuschia shoe polish so I can sort-of save my NEW FUSCHIA shoes. Those are NOT flash reflections. That is the damage from my fall. Poor, poor shoes. They never saw it coming.

I literally fell for a guy on Valentine's Day. *shakes her head in disbelief*

That is a true story.

update: I just emailed Dansko's customer care center to ask if there was any way to save the shoes. I referenced the story and gave them the blog address if they wanted all the details. I should hear back within 3 days. Please keep my shoes in your thoughts.