So I had originally had another idea in mind for today's post, as the kiddies get out at 12:15 today and I had been planning on blogging about my annoyance at the school half day, and how it really interferes with one's schedule... BUT THEN... I got inspired by something else.
In blog commenting with Molly this morning we reminisced over one very specific aspect of our college experience... that of frat-feet. I'm not too sure that a "real" word exists for this condition, but I will be sure to explain in great detail what we mean by this phrase. So at our school the social scene was primarily attending a fraternity party. When attending said fraternity party it was important to choose your shoes wisely.
High heels were never a good choice as you tended to look a bit silly and out of place, and everyone usually stared at you with the "Oh my God I can't believe she wore those... HERE" sort of look.
Shoes of any real monetary value (or sentimental value for that matter) were also never a good choice, as they were sure to get tromped on and wind up caked in layers of mud and beer sludge. This would then leave them with a slightly dingy, sticky, and yet shiny glean.
Sneakers were usually fine, unless a cup of beer got spilled on your foot, which was a strong possibility. If that was to happen then you were left with a slight smush in your step when you walked, and a sopping wet sock for the rest of the night... not to mention a shoe that then reeked of beer for the next few weeks.
So the usual choice, and by far the BEST choice, was the flip flop. Flip flops were a great choice for a party because they are simple and go with everything, not too mention they are comfortable, so you can dance the whole night long. But the best thing about them is that you can very easily clean them (or replace them), and they look pretty close to new again, and this is something that you can't really do with any other type of shoe once a fraternity party has had its way with them.
However, there was one BIG drawback to the flip flop... frat-feet. By the end of the night one's feet were always COMPLETELY DISGUSTING! So much so that when you took your flip flops off it basically looked as though you were still wearing them... just now in a nice flesh color. And the thing is you never really knew exactly what this mixture of "stuff" was on your feet, nor did you want to even attempt a guess. You knew your feet were filthy, and covered in beer sludge, and literally black, but you never truly wanted to know just how horrifically gross they really were, because if you actually thought about what might really be on them it would probably make you want to throw up.
So every night you would simply walk back to your dorm... choosing to ignore your frat-feet and pretend they didn't exist, and crawl into your bed. Maybe you would wash your feet, usually not, although the thought would always cross your mind, but it would always seem like such a BIG effort. Sometimes on a rare occasion though you may actually decide to take the effort to wash off your horrible frat-feet. Problem is though that lots of times it wouldn't always go so well, because let's just say beer + small tiny sink (or shower, but that is way worse) + water + slippery soap = HUGE wet dirty MESS! So like I said lots of times you would just go to bed, placing your horrible frat-feet on your "clean" sheets. When waking up the next morning... in a slightly different state of mind... you would then think to yourself "AHHHHH GROSS. I can't believe I went to bed without washing my feet!" However, you would then go out that night and do it all over again.
So with this pattern of yucky frat-feet, and crawling into bed with them unwashed, one might think it would make you want to wash your sheets more often. Because let's face it they are really not all that clean once you've put your frat-feet on them (because even though you don't want to imagine what is really on your feet, you do know that you have now just transfered some of that onto your bed... oh yuck!). But... we were college students, and let's face it laundry was a pretty low priority on the to do list. And when laundry was done quarters were precious, and clothes came first... especially the jeans and tank top you wanted to wear to said fraternity party... so obviously sheets came last... if at all. Once again... YUCK! But totally true... and we all did it too.
So this got me to thinking, and now I am totally wanting to go scrounge the blogosphere to see if I can find any other people's ridiculous stories about frat-feet... because surely Molly and I couldn't have gone to the only school were frat-feet were an issue.
In keeping with the Christmas theme, since it is that time of the year, I decided that I would share my favorite Christmas book. After much googling last night in an attempt to find a link or a summary or something about this book to share in this post, the only thing that I discovered, much to my sadness, is that this book seems to no longer be in print, and it is now sort of a "collectible". It's too bad they don't publish it anymore, as it's a really cute book. It's a very simple story about a lady named Maud, who lives on Beacon Hill in Boston, with her two dogs and her cat. Maud LOVES Christmas time because she gets to spend it cooking, decorating her tree, shopping at Filene's Basement, and attending fancy events at the Museum of Fine Arts. Maud also LOVES to make lists, and even though she saves everything until the last minute, she always has a great time whatever she is doing. The thing that I always loved about this book though is the illustrations. They alternate between black and white (with red accents) and bold and colorful pictures. The illustrations are a bit wonky, but in a cutesy "it's like a child drew them" sort of way. There are also tons of funny little details, and lots of characters to check out, and every time you read the book you are sure to notice something new. Every Christmas I still love to read this book, even though my copy is now old and worn... with a cover that has been lovingly taped back together (no doubt by my mother, who also kindly penned in my name on the front cover, for fear of it getting lost on the occasions that I brought it in for show and tell at school). 
