My Kinda Party AKA When Does Taking Off Boots Sound Like Sex?

Yeehaw, y’all. When it comes to music, I’ve always been the odd one out. In the 80’s I was into heavy metal and the only way I could get my friends to go to a club with me was on my birthday. Up until a year ago, it was still pretty much all I listened to. And then I heard Jake Owen’s Yeehaw. His lyrics about having ‘a weekend full of nothing to do at all’ completely seduced me… he isn’t hard on the eyes either.

So in typical Type-A form, I immersed myself in the music and once again found myself alone in my genre. People I’m friends with won’t even give it a chance. Not that I can blame them… I’d always said that there was one kind of music I would never listen to- COUNTRY!  Never say never…

Luckily, I recently made some new Southern friends who are happy to hang with a girl who knows all the words to Jason Aldean and Blake Shelton songs. Mr and Mrs Rockbody are my friends from the gym, who’ve become more than just friends from the gym.

Last night, while getting ready for my first hoedown, Mrs Hardbody was doing my hair. I said to her, “This is like the old days when I’d be getting ready to go out with my sorority sisters and we’d all be doing each other’s hair and makeup.” She got it stick straight… but it wouldn’t last.

I had on my new boots from Saks which go up to the knee and short dress that landed above the knee. I left the cowboy hat at home because I wanted to show off the long straight hair.

We got there in time for Line Dancing lessons which were a blast, even if I was a bit of a spaz. There was only one incident as the night went on. Some drunk punk who was not in country gear, crashed the dance floor as the Brazilian Colin Farrell was trying to teach us a new dance to Tim McGraw’s I Like It I Love It. I was sober and not pleased as I was taking my new dance style very seriously. Mr and Mrs Rockbody and their friends could see I was getting a tad pissed off… and by tad, I mean very. To be clear, there was no ‘kick’ in this particular line dance, but the punk did get kicked. I was ready for a country brawl. He of course, was too drunk to notice.

I also befriended the DJ, who was not a country guy, and was called last minute, so he took all of my requests as well as asking me to send him a list of all of the songs I’d like added to his play list… it’s going to be a LONG list 🙂

As the night drew to a close, two things became apparent:

1. Thanks to the outdoor dance floor’s humidity, my long straight hair, was now a huge lion’s mane which would have fit in GREAT if it was 80’s metal night…

2. My feet were hot and swollen in my new boots. This brought to mind how hard the boots were to get off when I first tried them on. They fit perfectly once my feet are in them, but getting them off was no easy feat.

I shared this information with the Rockbodys and Mrs R offered to help me take them off once we walked back to her place if I didn’t mind driving home barefoot. I didn’t. It was certainly better than trying to get them boots off m’self!

When we got back to their place, I sat down on the couch and Mrs R started pulling. The expression on her face was priceless when she realized no matter how hard we work out together at the gym, her arms didn’t have a chance against those boots. So she called Mr over. Now he’s a body builder… he is strong… those boots didn’t stand a chance against those biceps…

Or did they? And that’s when we started scaring the neighbors! It got to the point where Mrs Rockbody was holding me down on the couch so as Mr Rockbody pulled on the boots, I wouldn’t go flying off. Mr Rockbody had one leg braced on the couch and the other planted on the floor. Orders were being barked out like, “Keep pulling” “Right there.. keep doing it just like that.” But no luck. Mrs Rockbody suggested pouring baby powder in the boots, but I’d seen that episode of Friends with Ross, the leather pants, and the baby powder, and I knew that would end badly.

I said I would just leave and sleep with my boots on until the morning when my feet had cooled down, but they would not let me leave with those boots on. That’s when Mr Rockbody went in for round two and seriously, we should have had a video camera because it was some scene! Her holding me down, him pulling, me yelling things like, “It’s close… you’re getting it! Keep wiggling it like that. You’ve almost got it, don’t stop.” And then the collective “Ahhhhhh” when the first boot was off. It went pretty much the same way on the second side with a little more grunting and squealing as we all wanted this scene to end.

And then I was free. We all sighed with relief, drank some water to rehydrate, and I was on my way home.

So ladies, here’s the question… What do I do the next time I wear the boots? Do I wear peds? Thin socks? Will it make a difference? These boots are hot!

I am not going to abandon them because they are hard to get off!

©2011

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3 Responses to My Kinda Party AKA When Does Taking Off Boots Sound Like Sex?

  1. Ray says:

    Get a boot jack. Or when not at home, leave them on. THAT’S sexy.

    • I decided to purchase really thin socks that are supposed to make them easy to slide off. I still have to use major biceps to remove them, so they would NOT be a good choice for a night out with a guy… unless as you say, I just leave them on. Of course that would require cutting my jeans off which would be a shame because they fit so well.

  2. Ray says:

    No, no, no. BEST look, in the WORLD, is cowboy boots and a cotton skirt, even if it’s long a-la Emmylou Harris. If it’s short and white denim, well that could be the ultimate. Finish with a Ginny T, a logo T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, or an Oxford cloth button down and you’re set. No need to worry about damaging the perfect fitting jeans.

    Guys just love solving problems. It’s that need to be a hero. Especially since the saber-toothed tiger isn’t around anymore.

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