The power of red boots usurps the power of orange knickers

Oh my, my.  Oh hell yes.  I gotsta put on my party dress.  Sorry....not editing my brain today and it's such an odd place to be.  It's official...like a junkie returning to her favorite drug after being sober for 20 years, I have 100% returned to my boot fetish.  Now, I'm not a fluffy girl (it's not what I do).  I could give two shits about my hair (as long as it lays well), whether my nails are manicured perfectly or if my mascara is applied just right.  I hate that shit...it takes time away from adventure...it makes you behave so you don't "fuck up" whatever polished image you think you create.  It keeps you from really diving into life...but...

Hot damn.  You really need to see my new red streetwalker boots.  I mean...HOT, HOT damn.  They oooooze sex.  High healed, fire engine red, zips up the side for the perfect fit...perfectly elongating the leg...appropriate for both jeans and skirts.  Okay, I know...I'm gushing.

Those that have known me for 20+ years completely get this.  I was the girl who totally never dressed up...wore concert t-shirt and jeans, but dammit...I had boots to match the colors in every t-shirt I wore.  Black, red, white, purple, brown, hot pink...even fucking TEAL.  It's the only seriously vain thing I was ever into.  Mmmm...vanity can be oh so fun.  I think every time I put on my new red beauties, I'm going to adopt the saucy streetwalker attitude to go with them.  I think I'll call them my "Trouble" boots.  Tee hee hee.

Call your priest...call your mothers...hide your children.  This bitch is BACK.  Muah ha ha ha!

Behold....