That is not exactly how the author of the GMOTD wrote it. The message was more to the blunt effect of leaving no rooom for interpretation regarding the biological reactions and urges to procreate that those pair of shoes may cause in testerone-toting beings. Shoes, whose original intent is to be on one's feet, but through the process of form meets function, make one want to be off of those feet, in a manner of speaking.
But it's all about the prime directive.
The extremely intelligent and witty guildmates always have something clever to say, and sometimes, oftentimes, it would make Lenny Bruce blush, a sailor go to confession, and a truck driver seek redemption.
I Like Bubbles recently provided an extremely creative linguistic challenge.
Heard a rumor today that the Big Kahunas at my work are thinking of putting out a mandate that every piece of communication, every e-mail, every spoken word are of the utmost professionalism.
This concerns me.
Well, my colleagues have grown used to my salty language. I think they suspect that if I don't throw out a word or two, I am going to explode. It is my release valve. Un-ladylike language is my heritage. My own sweet mother cussed out a Delta stewardess once (not flight attendant: stewardess), who then made the fatal mistake of telling my mother "Nice language in front of your children." SKA-BOOOOOOOM! I try not to say bad words, but alas, sometimes a girl's just gotta say something about the utilization of carnal knowledge.
|really. ugly. shoes.|
Theme song: Goody Two Shoes/Adam Ant
Postscript: Both a friend and I were glad to get new boots, and get rid of those Treads of blah de blah. Those things were UGGGG-ly.