Flop Week: Barely a Hint of a Shoe

Sometimes I'll convince my unsuspecting friends that their clothes are really cool.  I then use their oblivious hubris (a fatal flaw) against them as I ask to take their picture.

Stupid.

Let's examine the unfortunate case of Kate.*  Kate walked into the room wearing these flops on a pleasant day - not too hot, not too cold, partly cloudy, chance of showers.  One might point out the lovely pedicure she received just a few days before.  Sure.  But look at that thing trying to masquerade as a sole.  Now let's compare with a few other things that are slightly more substantial:

Kate, why would you want to walk around on a slice of prosciutto?  Why?  Prosciutto is meant for wrapping around a stalk of asparagus or other food.  It is not meant to protect you from the elements.

Isn't that why we first started wearing shoes?  So we wouldn't have to walk around barefoot on the prairie?    Wear these flops on the prairie (or similar location, like Lincoln Park) and there is nothing to protect you from a rattlesnake attack.  No rattlesnakes in your neighborhood?  Fine.  Let's say Kate was in a good mood as she left the building.  (Oh poor unknowing Kate.)  Maybe she's whistling.  Maybe she skips a little. 

And then maybe she comes back to the pavement a little sideways.  Her flop folds like an unquilted kleenex, her toe scrapes the concrete, her pedicure gets chipped, her ankle twists and she goes down.  She lands on her elbow.  It starts to bleed.  It drips on her new white blouse.  Ugh, it's the first time she's worn it - how is she going to get that blood out?  Why was she whistling?  Why was she skipping?  How can one skip when EVERYTHING IS FALLING APART?

I say this only somewhat hypothetically, as I saw the whole thing from afar.  And after she stood up and started to limp to her car, I began to skip. 

Safely.

*name has been changed, you know, out of decency or something