These Boots Are Made For…Well, I Guess Walking but that Wasn’t What I Had in Mind

Yesterday I got a new pair of boots.

They are absolute bootly perfection. They’re buttery-soft suede, knee-high and just the right amount of slouch. If I were three years old and still at a phase where I could get away with such things, I would wear them EVERY DAY because THEY ARE MY BOOTS DAMMIT.

I’m not remotely the “fashionista” type. I catch on to trends about 3 years after they are cool. I have worn Crocs. (Are you convinced yet?)(WHAT. They’re comfortable) But this year I bought a new pair of skinny jeans, and realized “Oh crap. These will not work with my Clarks.” (stop judging me.) I came up with 2 solutions, and settled on finding some slouchy suede boots.

The box arrived yesterday, and when I finally got home after a day of work, dinner date and evening rehearsal, I rushed it up to my room. Opening it with a reverent hush, I pulled out the right boot, and held it to my nose.

Mmmmmm. That new suede smell. Instant turn-on. Totally want to slip the boots on a pounce a hot guy.

Wait, it’s not? Well what makes a turn on??

Of course there’s the obvious: hearing the perfect song never fails to set the mood for me. For a long time, it was Norah Jones’ first album “Come away with me.” that whole album on softly in the background was basically my makeout music for the majority of college. It was then replaced by anything Damien Rice. Clearly I tend to enjoy soft ambient music for gettin’ busy. I’m also a huge fan of the smokey-voiced British woman- Joss Stone’s funky white girl soul works every time, and Adele’s slower, but equally soulful tracks.

There are the rare few faster, louder, harder (*giggle*) songs that will inevitably make me think of sex… “#1 Crush” by Garbage, for example. I distinctly remember being in 9th grade and hearing that song for the first time, thinking “Man. I would totally make out to this.” “Supermassive Black Hole” by Muse is another.

Men’s cologne is another- women are far more olfactory while men are definitely visual. Hence the smell of boots. And ohmygawd if you pass a man that smells good… “Very Sexy for Men” by Victoria’s Secret is my ultimate love potion. I am totally not above grabbing one of those little sample tickets to tuck in my purse and smell throughout the day. It’s just that good. (whatever. I don’t even care if that’s weird.)

Ooo, and being organized is a total turn-on. I was talking to Danielle today, and she said something about multi-tasking and I was all flustered for a minute. But really. Getting new binders so that I can keep my 40 pieces of music for Singers organized by what concert they’re for? Awesome. Putting away the clean clothes that I tend to let pile up during the week? Yup. Talking on IM while processing auth requests, conversing with Genius boy and making cup-o-noodles?! Aw-right!

…yeah, maybe I’m NOT normal.

Last night, I met Army Boy for dinner before rehearsal. I was pretty fired-up, but trying to be calm after the last hour and a half of the workday went spectacularly badly. I was left with an insane amount to do in a short amount of time, and it was completely preventable. This resulted in me griping with my pharmacist, a potty-mouthed tirade with Genius Boy, molesting my stress ball (yes I do actually mean a little foam ball. That you squeeze. For stress. Pervs.) and being a huffy little bitch.

By the time I met up with him, I was feeling considerably better. We ordered some food, sat down to talk, and then he did it.

He asked about my day.

I explained as calmly as possible how busy we’d been, how there were a million issues that were being sent our way from the call center, and how I was the only one able to respond to them, apparently… and that I was also doing my job in addition to helping out Danielle’s team and all someone else had to do was just do the clear set of responsibilites that were outlined in a meeting back in April so that I’m not totally swamped at the end of the day because nothing is effing done and how EFFING hard is that?!?!?!?!?!

He looked frightened for a second.

“I’m sorry. I promise that I will not ever be Scary Brooke when I see you and will turn in my Bitch Card and not wear my Bitch Pants because that is NOT nice.”

“Um, actually I’m thinking it might be kinda hot to see you all angry and telling people “This is how shit gets done so do it you lazy jerks!!” and such.”

All I could do is laugh. Because really. When the guy you’re dating admits to being slightly turned on to the fact that you are an unmanageable, know-it-all-ish horror at times… It’s pretty awesome.

What are weird things that turn you on?

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