Don't ask / Don't tell.

As of late I've been somewhat shoethirsty. For real, I have not purchased shoes in SO long. OK, "SO long" as it applies in zuppe-time. So I've been a little spendy for the past couple of weeks, and I'm just gonna sublimate my guilt into some shop-talk rules that I'm going to try to operate by:

DON'T ASK...
me how much something costs only to get that look on your face all like "Dude, you got SUCKERED"/"Like OMGZ, I would never pay that MUCH!"
If I paid that price it means (a) hello fool, I've agonized already, like have we MET?!; (b) it's not going to keep me from paying off my student loans, okaaaay?; (c) you see how f-ing easy peasy it is to find a pair of size 10+ dressy shoes that are (1) reasonably safe for use on hard surfaces (2) cost less than $300 (3) have at least a wee frisson of chic and finally (4) are a color you'd wear after 1983, let alone Labor Day.

DON'T TELL...
me how much you paid for something as if you discovered a mothertrucking cure for cancer. Unless the damn thing actually cures cancer, I don't want to hear about it. If it's so awesome, go tell it on the mountain or some crap, or I'm sure there's an internet community out there for people like you who LOVE crowing about their sale-saavy. Go ahead, scan your receipts and post them if you're so gleeful about it, but spare me. Please.

In fact, don't ask me at all about how much something costs unless you are thinking of buying it yourself and you'd like to know where in the world can I get such a fabulous whatchamacallit and how much money should I keep on hand for bringing this wonderfulness into my life. And don't tell me how much something costs unless it's equal opportunity (e.g. coupon code, Ebates, what-have-you) AND something you think I would actually want to buy.

It's just tacky. I'm all for open discussion of money issues amongst friends, but save your judgment face for someone else before I smack it off you.

....aaaand here are the shoes I bought that encouraged mom-of-zuppe to ASK (or really, ASSK) which ended up in her judgment face+youpaidwhaaaaat, which brought on the barrage above.

....aaand here are the shoes that drove the guilt home. I found these in black at DSW on Saturday and just tried 'em on for fun. But then, as it often happens with me, I could not stop thinking about them. I felt like I needed at least a half size larger, so I tried to hunt them down online (but frustratingly could not remember the style name) with no luck whatsoever. So yesterday, after dropping off my dad to pick up his car from the shop in Greenwich (CT) and subsequently getting lost in Rye (NY), I finally made it to Woodbury Commons to search (and boy did I have to search) for the Aerosoles Outlet. And so after discovering the 11s were too big (damnit) and the 10s just a wee bit cramped and of course no 10.5s (because how weird to make a 10.5 because WHO could be that size?) I just bought the damn 10s after making sure returns were possible. It was, like, after the store was closed pretty much and the salesguy must have thought I was insane, foaming at the mouth as I probably was.

And OF COURSE after searching Zappos.com on Monday like a madwoman, I find them online today. Thankfully for more than at the outlet (and that's all I'm gonna say about that). But damn. GODDAMN I say.

So.... they come in teal (!!!) as well. And it's buy one get one 50% off. So... if these work out I may have to get another pair. Right? RIGHT?!