Facepalm: Salmon - Image 1
Try as I might, I just can't shake this "Dumbass" disease! Basically, I'm a moron. Let me explain:

Last Tuesday was supposed to be an easy day for me. (Yeah right.) I only had two things to do: 1) Buy a new pair of shoes and 2) pick up TWO FULL SALMON at the fish market for dinner.

So I get home from my chores around 1 PM, with a BOX OF SHOES in one hand, and a PLASTIC BAG WITH TWO SALMONS in the other.

I put the TWO LARGE UNCUT SALMON FILLETS in the fridge, and flop my two "shoes" on the ground. Or at least I THOUGHT they were my "shoes…" They hit the ground with a soft, wet thud. (more on this later… ;)

With five hours to spare before dinner, and literally nothing in my life to do (lol did I mention i'm a dumbass?), I decide to try on my "shoes" and go for a walk.

This is when things start to get a little "fishy" (ha ha — you'll get this joke later). As I slip my "shoes" on, something feels a little… cold. But, new shoes are always a little heavy and fish-wet so I power through. I finally slip my two "shoes" on, and begin my walk around the neighborhood.

I make it ONE BLOCK before the stench of salmon just overpowers me. It absolutely reeks of fish meat… as though I were swimming though wet tuna. Keep in mind EVERYBODY I pass is looking RIGHT. AT. MY. "SHOES." But, undeterred I keep walking. (Note: Every step I take makes a squishy noise. ;)

THREE MILES LATER cats from all around the neighborhood are just attacking my feet and trying to eat my "shoes." I don't wanna kick them away, but at the same time, these are new shoes! Keep in mind I haven't looked down at my feet once since I left my apartment so I have no idea what's going on down there. But I'm definitely starting to feel the concrete sidewalk against the pads of my toes.

At a certain point, I just can't take it anymore. Cats are nipping at my ankles, onlookers staring at my feet, calling me names like "Salmon-Foot" and "Fish-for-Shoes." I have no fucking CLUE what's going on, (maybe it's a full moon? lol it wasn't ;) so I power-walk it home, barreling over a really young girl in the process. (Oops ;)

I get back to my apartment, slam my front door shut, and begin taking off my "shoes"… when I realize something. My "Shoes" don't have laces, and there is fish meat in between my toes and on my feet!

At this point I'm 75percent sure what's going on, but there's only one way to find out! I open the refrigerator door, and sure enough, two Birkenstock loafers (Size 5.5) are just staring at me in the face.

Suddenly it all starts to make sense. Remember the names I told you about earlier? (Fish-for-shoes? Salmon-Foot?) Or the way my shoes FELT when I put them on? (Heavy and fish?) ….

(….I'll wait for you to get there…….)


…And I'm allowed to live without parental supervision why? :)