This pudgy piggy did, too. This pudgy piggy wanted flip-flops. This pudgy piggy bought two.
This pudgy piggy cried OMG, all the way home! And that, boys and girls, is the story of my recent footwear adventure. It all began when my wife, Sue, said it was time for me to get a new pair of flip-flops because the ones I had been wearing for approximately the past decade were beginning to disintegrate. I flip-flopped in rubbery comfort at the beach, the pool and around the house.
I even ran errands and threw out the garbage in my airy size 11s, though I sometimes stubbed my big toe and let loose with so many F-words ("feet," "footwear" and, of course, "flipflops") that the neighbors shut their windows and locked the doors. Still, it was time to treat my tender tootsies to a new pair of slides. I had referred to these light shoes as flip-flops, but my grandchildren, who are up on footwear fashion, set me straight.
Flip-flops, they informed me, have a Y-shaped strap with a little divider that goes between the big and second toes. I remember wearing them when I was their age. I also remember that they hurt like hell.
Slides have a vamp strap with no divider and are much more comfortable. That's what I was looking for when I went with Sue to the shoe store, where I also was looking for a pair of sneakers. I met a friendly salesperson named Josh and couldn't help but notice that he was wearing green shoes that looked like two patches of overgrown grass.
They were more luxuriant than my .