Make it end

"Narcissa" makes me homicidal, and i'm abusing breathing exercises in a vain attempt to prevent myself from composing an angsty, immature, repulsive little rant.

As if that would work.  To spare the world, i'm simply going to redirect my anger towards a more, erhm, inanimate object: the kitten heel.

what the fuck.  really.  i've been searching for prom shoes for weeks and the kitten heel makes me want to cram the hideous, usually rhinestone studded, repulsive excuse for footwear up someone's nostrils. What purpose do these shoes possibly serve? They don't look dressy or classy-- they look like you robbed a small child  with sparkly butterflies in her hair.  They make legs look stumpy, ankles thick, and immediately imply that the wearer secretly has genital warts. Worse, they manage (magically?)  to impair ones ability to walk more than a higher, and thus perfectly acceptable, heel would do.  Don't like heels?I know, its shocking, but turns out there are these things called (wait for it...) flats.  If Mussolini were a shoe, he would be a kitten heel.  Who the fuck thought it was a good idea?  Did they step in gum while wearing  flats and then decided the new height somehow made them look better?  Were they born with some deformity that made them only able to balance at a heigh approximately 0.00078 cm above the ground? Do they have fully functioning retinas? 

That person should be slaughtered and buried in a shallow unmarked grave. 

go back to your 7th grade dance.  i'd prefer the smackers lipgloss over this crap. 

Listening to: If You Hate Your Friends You're Not Alone- Pretty Girls Make Graves