Adventures in New Kids on the Block...

No, I'm not having '90s boy-band flashbacks. Sorry to disappoint those of you who still insist that Donnie was waaaaay dreamier than Danny. I know who you are, and I know you were looking forward to reviving a rousing debate on the subject. It's not going to happen on this blog. Not now. Not ever.

Okay, fine. You can decide who's dreamier. I don't care.

While I was doing some research on exciting things in the world of writing, I checked to see where this l'il ol' blog pops up in search engines...and discovered TWO other blogs that share my title, "Adventures in My Shoes." Both of them have only been around for a year or so - and obviously their authors were blissfully unaware of this aging behemoth slumbering in the cavernous bowels of the internet. I don't blame them - half the time even I forget it's here.

Still, it came as a shock to discover that my shoes are no longer the only ones having adventures. It also made me take stock and realize that I don't even really wear shoes anymore. Since moving to Thailand, I've traded in my cupboards full of fancy footwear for a few unassuming pairs of flip flops.

"And to think, I coulda been a Jimmy Choo..."

And yes, I did just go outside, line up all my flip-flops and tell them to say "Cheese!" I think the impish little pair in the back may have said "Toe Jam" instead, but I let it slide, especially since my neighbours were already beginning to look alarmed.

Now, back to the question of the New Kids on the Block - Jordan was definitely the cutest. No, wait, the other new kids on the block. The ones who really are having adventures and wearing shoes. And they probably have real shoes, and real adventures.

One of them can't spell International Border properly. (Unless she actually trod upon  a tenant or surfer when she said she walked across an international boarder.) Whatever the truth of that statement is, I suspect she was wearing actual shoes at the time.

The other is telling the world she's pregnant, which is certainly an adventure, although misogynist folklore tells me that shoes in her case are optional.

I assume that in spite of their poor diction and pictures of baby bumps, they're probably very nice women. They might even have interesting things to say. (Unlike someone I know who's still rambling about boy bands...)

The Canadian in me wants to welcome them to the neighbourhood and offer them some poutine. On the other hand, the crotchety old woman in me (who is old enough to remember too many of the words to Hangin' Tough) wants to wave my fist in the air and shout, "Get off my lawn!"

Maybe I should change the name of my blog to more accurately reflect my reality. Or, I could lace up my one remaining pair of real shoes and go have an adventure. (Who am I kidding. We both know that I'm going to post this and then go watch NKOTB videos on YouTube...in my bare feet.)