When Flip Flops Attack

All is well here in Frog Pond Holler this Monday morning. The sun is shining bright, the coffee is hot and even though it's nearly lunch time for everyone else, I'm still lounging around in my bathrobe.

It's time to launch a new(ish) feature here on Hidden Mahala, so without further adieu I give you:

Mahala's Southern Fried Words of Wisdom-ness
(Artsy-Fartsy graphic, in full Tech-No-Color coming soon!)

When faced with the sudden urge to take your large, untrained dog for a walk through town on a Sunday afternoon.. in August.. in the South.. fight the urge to do so wearing your hot pink, $1 special flip flops. As you are wrangling the enormous beast in to the house, through the back door (because there is no gate) and he steps on your hot pink, $1 flip flops, sending one flying across the dog lot for you to retrieve, take it as a sign from the Universe that maybe.. just maybe.. you should rethink your footwear choice.

As you guide the big, hairy drool maker through the house, screaming at the Chihuahuaranian to shut up and to stop trying to eat the big guy's face is pointless and will only result in the large canine you're trying to pilot out the front door sitting down and looking lovingly up at you for further instructions.. because he's the only dog in the three member pack who ever listens.

Cesar Millan would be so disapointed.

If while making your way down the sidewalk, your eighty pound lap dog is suddenly startled by a large group of crotch rockets, causing him to stomp on your left foot and ripping the soft rubber of your hot pink flip flop, pullng the toe torture device from the base of the shoe, do not simply stick it back in the hole saying, "It'll be okay. We're not going far."

It will not be okay. Trust me. The Universe has warned you. Twice.

You may want to reconsider the decision to take the path that passes by the window of the Grab n' Go (and go and go) on a Sunday, their busiest day of the week, just in time for the after church crowd, their busiest time of the day. When your damaged flip flop experiences a blow out, right in front of the window, causing you to trip over your poor dog, stumping all five of the toes on your left foot, the stream of obscenities that spews forth from your mouth will only serve to further damage your already questionable reputation among the townsfolk.

Don't fight it. Just go down. The flailing about while trying to stay upright will only make matters worse.

~*~

I plan to stay indoors for the rest of the day, tending to internet related projects. Don't worry about Ozzy (the large, hairy beast.) He's fine, although extremely embarrassed. He'd prefer that I hire someone to take him out in public from now on.

Ya'll enjoy your Monday.

Later Taters!