Those boots were made for ...

She talks a good game, that AnnaRay. She would like us all to think Condi Rice's footwear is an evil reflection of the darkness in her (Condi's) soul, but she (AnnaRay) is not fooling anyone. At least, she's not fooling me. AnnaRay thinks those boots are hot. She's always had a thing for straight women, and who else would wear those boots, man? Those shoes are NOT comfortable. I'm in pain just looking at them, though I guess that's the point.

It doesn't bother me that AR likes the ladies who don't necessarily like the ladies. I know I'm not her type, and she's not exactly mine either. I tend to go for smaller, swarthier types - soccer players, not golfers. Who ever thought I'd end up with a pale and lanky 6-foot wasp? Certainly not my high school friends, who insisted I would end up with someone just like dear old Dad, (a fierce little Jewish guy.) I of course insisted that I would do no such thing, and perhaps falling for Anna was my subconscious way of making sure of it. I mean, the only way she could be more different from my dad would be if she were black.

But the joke's on me. AnnaRay is JUST like my dad. She's a workaholic (just like my dad); she often communicates by imitating animal noises when unable to communicate like a normal person, which is often (just like my dad); she's really good at stickball (just like my dad); she has lots of imaginary friends (just like my dad). AnnaRay will point out that she is much nicer than my dad, which is true, but she's not as good with money. So I guess the one who was really off the mark in this whole scenario is my grandmother, who liked to advise: "it's just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is with a poor man."

Sorry, Grandma. I blew it.