I have this hobby that I like to call boot surfing. It's where I surf the internet for boots. Sometimes I wear boots while I surf the internet for boots. And sometimes I wear a pair a boots, surf for a bit, then change the boots, and surf some more.
An embarrassing amount of minutes have been drained into the schlocky orbit of boot surfing. I've browsed for thigh-highs, knee-highs, mid-calf, and ankle-highs; perused galoshes, mukluks, rain boots, and those for snow; I've grazed the westerns for square toe, snip toe, needle toe, and broad round. Then there's the sporting class, that includes ski boots for down, up, skate, cross and tour; others include riding, roping, and ruching. What's ruching, you say? I don't know! I think it involves sport-sewing. In boots.
But wait! We're just getting started! We have yet to catalogue the adornments that festoon and make fancy! There's stitching, buckles, laces, studs, buttons, gathers, zippers, grommets and more; high heels, low heels, no heels, and heels for a... you know... lady of the night.
So many boots! So many options! There's red, black, brown, mahogany, pewter, olive, bronze, grey, animal print, both legit and faux; there's leather, vegan, snakeskin, mule skin, foreskin, synthetic, nubuck and even suede.
Options. Boots have options. I currently have my eyes on a pair of spangley Ariats, bedazzled and embroidered with a brazen 'n hotdogging peacock. Can you think of anything more silkenly delicious, than that of peacocking about in a pair of cocky-pea boots? NO! You can't!
Here's some help just in case (and thanks to Winder):
See I told you I boot surf. I'm a world-class, champion boot surfer. I'm looking for sponsors. Please leave a comment.
Just the other day, I was chatting with Evil Bob, who is a coworker of Mikey (my dad.) Mikey and I were discussing some military issue, steel-toed, dessert trompers that the Marines sport for nearly 300 bucks a pair.
"How do you know so much about these boots?"asked Evil Bob.
"I have this hobby. I surf the internet for boots."
Evil Bob told me I needed a new hobby.
Why would I choose another hobby, when this one entertains and delights? Case in point: on Monday, I was working. And working. And working. I blew a garishly unladylike raspberry and hollered, "I need a break! I am so fried!"
Fryed? Thought I. As in Frye....?
That's when I used my break to boot surf a pair of Fryes – of which I've had my eye on for some time – and clicked add to cart.
(Photo added per Winder's request. I'm so accommodating lately.)