The Answer is Clear

This is my favorite time of year. As I see it, we've got an entire run of mirth and merriment from October all the way to my birthday in late January. We are teetering on the brink of Super Happy Fun Time, and I take it very seriously.

The first thing necessary to welcome this season is to find a Halloween costume.

Yesterday I found myself trolling the streets of Hollywood, between the big, screaming, neon-y capitalism of the Hollywood and Highland complex and where the boulevard starts to get depressing. You know the part where it's just as dirty as its western side, but without stars in the sidewalks? You know that stretch of land? I call it the "Pimps Up, Strippers Down" Hamlet.

I was wandering up and down the boulevard, wearing clean American Apparel clothing and mary jane shoes. I was admittedly ill-prepared for the outing, because if I had forseen the field trip, I would have worn my "I Love Sluts" tee shirt and caked some dirt on my face to act as camoflauge.

Anyway, I was searching for a Hollywood boulevard staple. They are ubiquitous on that street; all I needed to do was make a selection. I saw them on display in many a window, some with diamonds, some with bows. Some had a little color to them, others had fish in them. But unfortunately, the majority of Clear Heels that I found on that street were just too fucking tall.

I am 6 feet tall, my darlings. Although proppping myself atop 7" stripper shoes might seem like a good idea, it usually scares the shit out of regular men, and makes the gay ones on La Cienega think that you're their bottom for the night, which is not what I am going for. Plus, I hate being crippled by my footwear. I usually last 30 minutes before I'm found in the shadows ripping the evil sons-of-bitches off my feet and attempting to hurl them in the nearest garbage receptacle. And 50 bucks is lost.

I couldn't manage to find a pair of respectable 4" clear heels to save my life. I began to get frustrated. My pace began to quicken and my face crumpled into a slight frown of determination. I considered what this meant. You would think that strippers need a break once in a while, that they would use a lower clear heel as their everyday shoe, but no. I guess they always just wander around in 7 goddamn-inch heels at their sons' fourth birthday party. I suppose it's normal for them to perch high above the rest of the population when they're at the Washington Mutual. Perhaps strippers are so used to their position above the tree-line that they can never come down to be with the rest of us, in sneakers and flip-flops.

Maybe this is why strippers are better than regular people. Just like the British.

My patience ran out at the same time my meter did. I got in my car, flustered, and I wished that I could have some hot shoes to wear the next time I had sex with my boyfriend.

Whoops. Overshare.

I will continue the search, my darlings, and major shoe manufacturers will feel the weight of my wrath upon them. If anyone thinks they can dictate how high the heel of my stripper shoe is, they're dead wrong. And on the sweet, victorious day I find the shoe I'm looking for, I will thrust my fist in the air and declare it a victory for people everywhere. Sure, our lives are all touched by disastrous fires and hurricanes and poverty and hatred, but the perfect Halloween costume can bring everything back into perspective.

boo. g