Sassafrass

How you know your friends know you too well

First, she's not only seen your boobs, she's seen the Before Boobs and After Boobs. And she has definite opinions on both (all four? what's the proper numeric assignment on that?).

Second, she needs up-to-the-minute (and preferably texted) information on all things boy-related. This isn't optional and it can be accompanied by snorts or shiraz (either is good). It is a full-on teched-up sixth grade giggle fest, minus the headgear and padded bras (well, on some of us).

Finally, she sends you links like this one. In the middle of the work day, following one conference call and before a deadline. No words, no messages, no witty repartee. Just a link because that's all it takes. She knows you will get why. She knows you will laugh and poke fun and let the sarcastic comments fly but then will surely begin to crave the lovely luciteness, even just for a bit of fun at BlogHer. Or to trade off when one of you finally installs a pole in the playroom, convincing the kids of your intense admiration for the dedicated men and women in the Chicago Fire Department and yourself of the fabulous ab workout pole-robics really is (no, really). Or just to throw on and wrap around and around your calves while posting on...I don't know, natural remedies and inappropriately-named cocktails and toxic baby whatevers. She also knows you won't actually order them (even though the idea of owning a pair of Promiscuous brand anything is overwhelmingly tempting) because you can so feed your newfound bra-lust with eighty bucks.

Yes, she knows you well. Too well, maybe. And that's why you not only heart her back, you're blowing off the rest of the day just to page through Zappos until you find the perfect link to ping back (like these, for when boots are just too...oooohhhh hot...and platforms are still the protocol, which can totally happen when you are a working mom in the big city).

This is not a shoe blog: What would it take for you to spend three-hundy on some hawt shoes?

Because these are dangerously close to the shoes in my banner (look up, kitten).

Not in a matchy-matchy, super-perfect wedge heel way. More like, in the spirit of close-to-over-the-top-edness and retro-ish  shoe whorey lust.

I have been searching for those shoes (keep looking) since the day that snazzy little pic was placed up there like the crown upon the head of the reigning Queen of Sassdom.

And if they are as close as it's going to get to the pinky platformy blistery-but-so-worth-it goodness on my blog, does buying them count as a business expense? (Go ahead, laugh with me as I pretend that I could possibly ever in a gazillion years and shoe purchases itemize this little nook on the internets).

Oh, I want. I want.

Grocery or Gabbana?: More shoes I found on Facebook

I can't help it. I'm apparently a social network advertiser's afternoon delight. I see the shoe ads over and over and over and get pissed because they're there all customized-like and taunting me. Then four minutes later, I'm clicking like I have a J-lo shoe budget and a Kimora closet to hold them all.

Now that you've weighed in on whether these gold numbers are Hoochy or Hawt, play along with another gold pair that desperately need your attention.  Or at least your judgment. Feel free to be harsh. These aren't people or ethical decisions, kittens. They're freaking shoes. Gold shoes. They need your stern eye and sense of style-entitlement.

Today's game is called (cue the band):

                    Are these shoes
                    good for the grocery store
                    or should they be saved for
                    a Saturday celeb brunch
                    with Debra Messing and Demi Moore?

                    (see these babies after the jump)

Hoochy or Hawt: What do you think of these shoes I crave?

Remember how this is not a shoe blog? Well, it's still not. Just humor me, kittens. Humor me and play along in the game.

You know...the game where I finally give in to effing Facebook and click the customized ad for Betsy Johnson and other adorable and completely compellingly clickable shoes and find twelve pairs of $350 heels I feel are imperative to my quality of life. Particularly, post-marriage quality of life.

While I am too committed to (gulp) financial freedom at this point (look at me, all Suze Orman and what-not) to buy all of the shoes I lust after (or rather, any $350 pairs), a grrrl can dream. And strategize. And call on all the fabulous women she knows to answer:

Are These Shoes Hoochy or Hawt?
(you can see them shine after the jump)