Oh, the agony and the ecstasy of online shoe shopping. It turns out that the evil, loathsome, aforementioned L.L. Bean carries a few Børn shoes (like my little ø? I feel pretty 1337 for doing that), and I want. I yearn. I covet. I’m channeling Frodo Baggins over here, if you know what I’m sayin’, if Frodo didn’t have abnormally large, hairy feet that don’t fit into cute shoes. Oh, I lust.

My heretofore unrealized dream of owning Børn shoes in every imaginable shade and style has finally taken hold. I’ve always admired them, when tagging along with my mom to the artsy shoe stores she likes, but their $85 price tag has always turned me off a little. In my post-college, substitute teaching world, I wear what can be optimstically called “economically sensible” apparel, or more realistically, “clearance rack final markdown” duds. When I saw these, I began reprioritizing my finances:

Maybe I can justify it by considering it a medical appliance. The truth is, I’m kind of short. I’m the shortest person in my family, and I’m shorter than most of the middle schoolers I sub for. (Side story: There’s a kid who goes out of his way to call me some variation of short every time he sees me. Last time, it was shrimp!) My sister got all the tall genes, measuring in at a respectable 5′5″, while I wallow down where the sun don’t shine. (It’s a figure of speech! Don’t look at me like that!) Usually I like being short (politically correct terminology: petite), but lately I’ve been drooling over platform shoes.

Perversely, ever since my mom broke her foot a month ago, I’ve found myself extremely attracted to tall, impractical shoes, the kind that would make her foot doctor cry his eyes out. On a mission, I went to DSW and tried on all the shoes I could find that met my criteria (the bigger the better), and finally bought the tallest shoes I could comfortably wear.

I’m 5′1″, people! Throw me a frickin’ bone! (Side story #2: my height fluctuates to suit my purposes. I’m technically 5′1.5″. The beauty of half an inch, you see, is that you can round up or down depending on your needs. When I’m trying to be tall (to get on a rollercoaster or beat a fellow shortie in an “I’m taller than you” contest), I’m 5′2″. When I need to get people to reach things on shelves, I’m 5′1″. When I’m honest, I’m 5′1.5″, and I wouldn’t think of omitting the half. I want credit for every fraction of an inch.)

Will Kiki fill every square foot of her house with platform shoes? Will she totter, trip, and break her foot? Tune in next week, folks! Meanwhile, some shoe porn to tide you over:

I’m about to learn a lot about long term commitment.

I ordered a pair of back-ordered pants.

They won’t be ready to ship until May 3rd, which is a heck of a long time to wait for Instant-Gratification-Is-My-Middle-Name me. There will be months of waiting, and a lot of persevering, but I’m ready to do what it takes to make this relationship work. There won’t be any backing down, no changing my mind. I’m in it for the long haul.

You see, the thing is, I’ve got a bit of a problem. A problem so evil it is known only by its initials, because evidently, we can’t handle the truth. Lest you start signing me up for some kind of rehab, James Frey style, I’ll come clean. I’ve been compulsively shopping from L.L. Bean.

It started innocently enough. I browsed their sale section, and being a sucker for anything labeled 63% off, I placed an order. When it finally arrived, about half of the clothes fit, half of them didn’t. You may think that I resigned myself to paying the return shipping, but don’t lose hope, oh ye of little faith! The rusty cogs in my head started a-turnin’, and a scheme began a-hatchin’. Why send the rejects back now, if I could place a second order and send all the rejects back together? Genius!

Order #2 was placed. Order #2 begat order #3, order #3 begat order #4, and I will admit, I just placed order #5. At this point, I’ve got enough L.L. Bean catalogs to insulate and also wallpaper my house. I just keep figuring I’ll send it all back in one nice big package with the $5.85 return label. Might as well get some mileage out of it, I figure! Meanwhile, the orders keep rolling in at an alarming rate.

The real problem is, the more orders I place, the more clothes I like, and the less potential refund money I’m going to get. At this point, shopping has been fun because it’s like paying with play money: I’m going to return it anyway! But the more I buy, the more I keep, and I suspect L.L. Bean is the one laughing all the way to the bank. Damn them and their moderately priced, quality guaranteed, indefinitely returnable apparel. Damn them straight to Maine!

In other news, fainting goats rock the hizzouse. They’re so cute in that prostrate, unconscious sort of way! See them in action! It’s like bowling with goats! It’s kind of a guilty pleasure, much like that dachshund fireworks video that has made its sordid rounds on the Internet. The Dachshund of Doom has arrived! You giggle now, but wait until you’re in the line of fire! Listen to the screams! I’m rootin’ for the underdog!

In the spirit of the Ides of March, a mysterious, theatrical holiday if ever there were one, I looked ides up in the dictionary. It has kind of a crazy definition. “The 15th day of March, May, July, or October or the 13th day of any other month in the ancient Roman calendar; broadly : this day and the seven days preceding it.” The Ides of March: not just for March anymore! Tired of Christmas in July? Try the Ides of August! I finally know the truth about my birth: I was born on the Ides of April! Now if only my pants arrive before the Ides of May.

Tip of the Day: If someone else’s mail is going to be misdelivered to your box, it’s best if it’s a postcard. All the fun of a federal offense without those telltale ripped envelope flaps! The best part is that the card was signed “Love, Me.” Mysterious!

Today I went to a so-so Chinese buffet for dinner, and although the food didn’t inspire my loyalty, the fortune in my cookie did: