Trickle down effects of pseudo fabulousness....Public Transportation

I could afford a car. Albeit, in the overworked and underpaid career path called public relations, it would be a hoopty of sorts that would start to honk if I turned the radio volume dial up past 5, but it would be a car.



However, I am adamant about my monthly clothing allotment of (a shameful number I will not divulge in the streets lest they up my tax bracket, Lord) and fiercely believe in the miracles that happen during my retail therapy sessions with my highly recommended and accredited therapist named VISA. (Shameful number of clothing allotment that shall not be divulged) would easily cover a car note and insurance, but I'm just not willing to give it up.

And then, there are days like today. Days when I have made myself look that much more fabulous than I usually do because it's Monday and I have to make myself feel better or else I am doomed to lament the weekend that has just died too young. Days when it's unseasonably warm (high of 68 today, snitches!) and THE ONLY THING I committed to doing on Sunday was my toes, so that I could don my peep toes for what could be the last time until April (May, messing around with Pittsburgh).

ONLY TO HAVE SOME JERK OF A BUTTHEAD WHO HAS CLEARLY FOREGONE LOOKING AT THE WEATHER REPORT WEARING MUD RUCKERS THAT I'M SURE HAVE SEEN MORE THAN THEIR SHARE OF CAMPING TRIPS AND IS TRYING TO FLY OFF THE BUS BEFORE IT HAS EVEN COME TO A COMPLETE STOP YELLING "GETTING OFF" INTO THE EARS OF PEOPLE WHO ARE GETTING OFF JUST LIKE THEM, TRAMPLE ON MY TOES AND KEEP IT MOVING.

KEEP! IT! MOVING!

Then, as the moron runs across the street, camping bag/book bag flopping onto the back of his puffy jacket, I am silently reprimanded by my Lord as a smile makes it's way onto my CO Bigelow Cinnamon-(Bath and Body Works ladies, get on it!) laden lips because said forest ranger wannabe almost gets hit by a concrete truck.



So, I spend my injured walk across the street to the office listening to NeYo & KNOTB (gotta be over 21 to know that acronym) be my boyfriends while the single plays and breaking down my monthly budget to see how many pairs of shoes a month I would have to forego in order to squeeze this hoopty into my budget.

Then, I look across the street and see this girl who is inappropriately dressed for the unseasonably warm weather. But she's got on some BAD winter boots. I think I saw them in Nine West's fall collection...they're about a bengie...

Goodbye hoopty, HELLO KNEE BOOTS!




As I crawl my throbbing-toe-having self up the 4 steps up to the door of my work building, I pat my trench coat pocket (a steal from the twin!), making sure my bus pass is still there.

For now, it's my pseudo fabulous self, my bus pass, a fabulous pair of boots on the horizon, and the Pittsburgh Public Transit Authority.