One can obtain a better understanding of my foot-oriented demise if one sings Bon Jovi’s “Bad Medicine” in one’s head while perusing the objects of my compulsion.
Your love is like bad medicine
Bad medicine is what I need
Woh oh oh
Shake it up just like bad medicine
There ain’t no doctor that can cure my disease
|Slouchy things are some of the best things. Unless you're "slouchy". I would never wish to be personally described as "slouchy"...in any capacity.|
|Envision these with cropped skinny jeans (not jeggings!) and ask yourself, "Why am I not wearing that or something equally as cool this very moment?!?"|
If you hate all of my beloved booties and gather no useful information from this blog entry, take this with you at least. Should you ever take up spellchecking as an occupation, don't assume that one intended to write "dickhead" as opposed to "dichotomy". In fact, I think it's fairly safe to assume the one may be going for a different, less reprobate noun. Seriously, why was that even an option?