why I'm lame, #42

Yesterday while walking back from lunch, the heel broke off my boots. My three-inch heel snapped entirely clean off of my favorite black knee-high square-toed Nine West boots in the middle of crossing 45th St. A total Mentos moment. Yet, did I write a funny post about it? Did I have some hi-LAR-ious story to regale co-workers and my worldwide fans alike? Um, no not really. It's a situation that completely lends itself to humor and I got nothing. Well, at least it was better than the time that I tripped walking on the LES. Stone cold sober and I toppled over on my cork wedges to skin an exposed knee. I brushed the gravel off and kept walking until I noticed the blood. But somehow (and it MAY have had something to do with the 4 hurricanes I consumed in support of New Orleans) I didn't notice the full extent of the injury until much later that night. Folks, I still have a red mark there and this was early September. But at least that was a funny story. No wonder I don't have a book deal from this blog yet...