Oh, you want to wear your shoes in my house?

How about… no.

Thanks to my brunette, and wildly evil, friend Dayna, I have yet again been reminded of the “Shoes in the Home” saga. Americanos all think taking off your shoes in ones home is crazy craze. Whhhhaaatttttt? Take off my super sexy hot shoes that will inevitably ruin everything in your home? Are you for realsies up in this rental? Get out of town.

Yes, America. Take off your damn shoes.

I love Sex and the City – I mean, love is an understatement, but something always bothered me about this episode.

Carrie, take off your effing shoes and shaddap.

At 5’3 I drop a good 5 inches, instantly, when I walk into someones home. It’s how we do up North. It’s how we roll. Why this becomes strange as soon as you cross the border is beyond me. My Mom would cuff your ear if you traipsed around in anything but the feet God gave you in her home.

Even that part alone boggles my mind. Cool, you don’t want to take off your shoes – but the demands that come after, holy hell kittens. The sense of entitlement is astonishing. Because “I” made “you” take off “your” shoes, “I” must give “you” slippers? They cost $5, go pick up a pair and shove them in your purse. Case closed.

This isn’t new. We all go to Christmas parties and are asked to remove our sparkly heels so that Santa isn’t bringing a construction worker in for Christmas. Unless you come in tow with a $1,000 gift card to Home Depot – zip your lip.

I, for some odd reason, am able to practice my Victoria Secret model walk in “air heels” while pointing and pouting, on hardwood floors, so sweethearts, you can maneuver through a room with a glass of vino gracefully too.

Let me dispel some “valid arguments”:

But your floors are dirty — so are you.

But someone might take them — someone might take your coat, life.

But my shoes are clean — I can’t even take that argument seriously. You just walked here and probably through fecal matter. No they’re not.

But they go with my outfit — really? That “outfit”?

But I’m not wearing any socks — I will remember you don’t “plan accordingly” and aren’t “flexible” if you ever ask for a job reference.

Basically, suck it up buttercup. Check your shoes and dramatic attitude at the door. Canadian Girls > American Girls

 

Get Better

It’s all over the place.

Everywhere you look now you can see a situation where someone has been beat down (literally or emotionally) and are at their breaking point. There are videos of women being beaten on the street, women going topless at a nightclub and dancing for a rap star, pictures of protestors and shoppers being sprayed in close range with pepper spray and videos of people crying out for help. There are videos of people saying it gets better. Maybe we should all get better.

We’re awful to each other. Absolutely terrible. We’re awful to people we don’t like, but worse, we’re the worst to those people in our corner. There’s only so much a person can take before they reach their breaking point – and whether it’s someone you know, or a stranger on the street – get better. Be better. I think I speak for most people who are sick of seeing or reading about how poorly we treat one another.

We all should be better than that.