The ride home last night was productive. God was looking down on the 145. Although, next time, he might consider giving me a little warning when some Biz Shooz hotness is approaching. My shutter missed two skirtsuit+nude pantyhose+biz shooz combos. If a tree falls in the forest, does it make a noise? If a lady in Business Sneakers waits for her bus on Michigan Ave., will anyone give a shit unless I capture it on John's douchey iPhone? It's like herding cats with these bitches. I guess the shoes that I so admire are the very shoes that make them so fast. Comfort=speed.
Also, Chuck did not deliver. (see previous post)
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