Saturday, January 06, 2007

Wind me up my Dear. Had it up to here.

Y'ever wake up and decide you're done? Ever think you've had just about enough of whatever you've had enough of and today is the last day you put up with whatever that is?

Well yesterday was my personal I've had enough of it day.

I woke up early, got the Big Dog off to school, came home and cranked up the angry white woman music to permanent hearing loss levels, which is what I always do when I’ve reached my “no, you did not” level.

Feeling sure that the regular me wasn’t tough enough to handle what I needed to handle, I began the process of changing myself from docile door mat to Sadie the Butt-Kicking Superhero.

I love her.

Of course, everyone knows when one is morphing into a superhero the very first order of business is to apply lots and lots of make-up. Angry as I was this morning I quickly discovered the more make-up I put on, the madder I got. And the madder I got, the bigger my hair got. And the bigger my hair got the more make-up I needed. There was teasing and spraying and painting going on with such fury I had to ratchet it back a little for fear the sparks I was creating would ignite my hair spray soaked head.

You want to know what had me in such a tizzy, don't you? Well that's some more of your business. As I am suffering still from a little residual hatefulness, I may tell you and I may not. You'll just have to stick around and see how it goes. I wouldn’t get my hopes up though.

Moving on now... after my general head area was fully prepared for my big bad-ass-ed-ness, I went to my closet and picked out what Mr. Man refers to as my dominatrix Realtor outfit. Don't listen to him, kids. It's not a dominatrix outfit at all. It's just a plain old ensemble that any Realtor might wear.

If she's a very angry Realtor and somebody is about to get very hurt.

With every button, I got tougher and tougher. By the time I put on the shiny black boots with the crazy high heels, I was approaching ten feet tall and bullet proof.

Now I don't know the main component a guy uses to quickly pump himself up to be a big, bad superhero, but if I had to guess I'd say it likely involves some sort of alcoholic beverage and something to do with sperm.

I do however know how chicks do it. How this chick does it anyway. Even more than high hair, heavy make-up and threatening attire, there is one vital item that gives us more muscle than any other weapon in our lady arsenal.


Not ordinary Mom taking the kids to school shoes. I’m talking about big, scary, nosebleed high shoes. The higher the heel, the more empowered we become. If you're ever in a pinch and liquor and sperm is not readily available, I highly recommend putting on crazy tall shoes prior to opening a can of name brand whoop ass on someone.

With my cruel boots on, I could have easily kicked Steven Segal's behind like no other… if he had shown up in my house for no good reason. Of course, I realize he's about ninety now and has to be routinely diapered by Kelli LeBrock so that statement doesn't mean as much today as it did in 1985, but you get the idea.

I had the big hair, the eight coats of maybe it's Maybelline, the intimidating clothing and the requisite all powerful heels. I was taking no prisoners and no matter what happened or how much blood shed might be necessary (so long as it wasn't mine), I was intent on drawing a line in the sand. I was done. Enough is enough is enough.

I drove…with angry music shaking my car windows… to the place where I was set to unleash my terror upon the unsuspecting townspeople inside. I, Sadie the high-heel wearing Superhero would rain fire down on who it was that needed rained on and in such a way he and all his descendants would rue this day.

I'm forty-two and I still have no idea what rue means. I don't even know how to spell rue.

And Baby, rain I did. Wielding the notes in my Palm Pilot like King Arthur's sword, I came down on that one-eyed Jack Leg so quick he never had a chance. He threw his arms up in defeat, begged me to take the heel of my boot out of his special bathing suit area, and promised to do what it was he should have done in the first place.

I came, I conquered.

I got my doctor to listen to me.

Got a crisis of your own? Here's a little advice from me to you. Solve it with shoes. Trust me.

Maybe I should just become a Rock Star

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Anonymous said...

The doc couldn't do anything BUT listen because SADIE had arrived. Good for you! I sure hope it worked out okay.

Smiles to ya,

Carol (Tide)

Sher said...

Go buy yourself some mean shoes today... Sadie says so. ;-)