Let’s Talk About SocksBy Kimberly M. Wetherell
August 16, 2010
I like socks.
Of late, my track record with socks is primarily happenstance. Obtained by necessity and without forethought. Acquired on a whim. Impulse socks. They feel good for a moment. Familiar and warm. Comfortable. But after wriggling around for a few hours, you realize that they are ill-fitting; simultaneously restrictive, and yet with elastic that’s pre-shot to Hell. The cheap acrylic fiber gets itchy – fast. It soon becomes apparent that these are Casual socks – disposable – worth nothing more than mere momentary gain and non-existent resale value.
From time to time, I am gifted with socks. And who can refuse Birthday socks, or Christmas socks? Summer socks seem to be my own particular brand, donned annually when seasonal fascination runs its all-too-predictable course. No matter the holiday upon which they are bestowed, they are still only Circumstantial socks. Fancily embroidered, ruffled, or even bedazzled, these Special Occasion socks are too loud, too jarring. The patterns are blatantly obvious. They scream: “Look!! SOCKS!”, calling unnecessary attention to themselves. Desperation socks are, quite simply, not attractive on anyone.
Intermittently, when I find socks that seem just right and bear re-wearing, I go overboard and rush to flaunt my Shameless socks. I’ve even been known to get so caught up that I’ve shown off my Newfound socks by pairing them with sandals, (sandals!) just to ensure everyone can see exactly the color, size and style. But over time, I’ve learned that Premature socks must eventually be laundered, and without the proper pre-treatment, on the other side of that wringer are a battery of Mismatched socks.
So what’s a girl to do?
You can’t just swear off socks.
The truth is, I’ve gone unadorned for some time now and it’s not that going socks-less is necessarily undesirable. Quite the opposite. Who can argue that oft times, it’s simply much less hassle to keep things paired-down? There’s a lot of mileage to be gotten from pedicures and reflexology. And while I’m certainly not condoning or recommending Business socks, or in a moment of weakness, succumbing to Pity socks, I can attest to the myriad of fabulous embellishments at a modern woman’s disposal – the very least of which are little strappy things, pumps, mules and the like. Merely slip on what suits your fancy and go, thereby avoiding the Emotionally-overwrought socks entirely!
At the end of the day, it gets cold.
And isn’t the best dream ever the dream of Potential socks?
Socks of warmest cashmere; soft and snuggly, tight enough to stay put, but not so restrictive as to impede your circulation. Socks that envelop you with comfort and reliability. Socks you can pad around all day in. Socks you can easily curl up with in your darkest hour. Socks you know intrinsically by faintest touch, and strongest smell. Socks that wear well over time; bettered by threadbare heels and darned toes. Socks that continually… well… knock your socks off.
Socks that you love beyond all others.
You can keep your little strappy things.
I’ll take socks.
I have only read two lines so far.. ‘I like socks. Big fan.’
…and once again I realise we have been separated at birth.
That’s all.. going to read on now. I WILL BE BACK.
We *were* separated at birth, Zarabeans – I truly believe that.
I am totally a big fan of socks-socks as well. My sock drawer overfloweth.
The alternative was funnier though.
Sock-socks are my weakness. I LOVE them.
The other socks ain’t so bad either…
I have a very funny story about Socks socks (not socks-socks) from when I was at a friend’s house on a sleepover in the 4th Grade.
Perhaps I’ll save that for a follow-up. Not sure I’m prepared to spill that story just yet.
God knows I’ve had enough Embarrassing socks to last me a lifetime.
Socks-socks? Or socks-socks…
I really want to hear the socks-socks story.
Embarrassing socks-socks stories are unbeatable!
Socks “socks” (not socks-socks).
It’s very funny in hindsight, but was *so* traumatic at the time. I went home at 3:30am in tears.
Now that I really look at it. I think I may have been scarred for life. I should really take it to a deviant socks-therapist/specialist for hyperanalysis.
Socks therapy. I should get some of that.
Apparently there are some very good socks therapists out there, but it’s better done in pairs.
Okay. Now I get it.
I am crazy about socks. Circumstantial socks. Celebration socks. Christmas socks, even.
But yes. The socks that are just pretty never last. They look good but soon you realise they are just show off socks.
Cashmere, well-fitting, warm socks are the best.
You know what I’m sayin’.
And Kimberly, I am so glad that the hiatus is over. I have missed you so. xx
I’ve missed being here!!! And I’ve been lurking/reading/observing as much as I can… just not commenting very often. Kinda reminiscent of the old 1.0 days.
I’m guessing there might be a divide here between guys and gals on this one.
As with almost every other type of clothing girls get way more choice and variety with socks. We get white, black or grey. Maybe some patterns if we’re lucky.
I love it when it’s warm enough to wear converse without socks, but usually it’s cold so I have to sheath my feet to stop them chafing on my sturdier shoes.
When I was a kid, I mean a really young kid, I used to have a selection of really brightly coloured socks. Yellow, orange, bright blue… those were pretty cool…
So was this.
Are you, or are you not, from the Land of the Sock Shop? It’s one of my very favourite drool factories in London!
Young Jedi (are the kids still calling you that?) don’t you know you can sport any kind of socks you like? Do not fear the judgement of others! Strut your stuff!! 🙂
I’ve never seen the Sock Shop. But then I live in a tiny little town and I doubt the village I’m moving to will have an outlet.
I don’t really like socks. I generally only where them for sports or if I want to wear my boots. And then if I wear my boots they go above the sock-line…
YOU’VE NEVER BEEN TO THE SOCK SHOP???
My friend, you have not yet begun to live.
I’ll have a look the next time I’m in London.
Which will probably when I go to watch a cricket match.
You have to wear socks to the cricket. It’s the law.
Being British, you’ve got a better chance at pulling off Argyle socks than the rest of us.
Okay, I’ll read now.
Aw! Way to make a girl feel loved!!!
Also, while I recognize that you go by Kimberly and not Kim, I can’t help myself. This is my sister’s name. It’s instinctive to shorten it. 🙂
No worries, darling! What’s your hair look like these days? Facebook misses you!
I don’t miss Facebook but I do miss you, among others. It’s super nice to see you on here again. I hope Florida is treating you wonderfully. Did you ever listen to The Splended Table? Do you love it?
Okay, at the risk of treating your hilarious and genius post as IM, I’ll stop there. 😉
Things are good! You can follow along on my blog: http://sheshootstoconquer.blogspot.com
Wow. That was some disgusting shameless plugging I did right there. I feel dirty now.
Cleansing socks suddenly seems appropriate.
Right on! Thanks for the link!
Also, maybe a nice pair of therapy socks would help assuage your yucky feeling?
Heh. Therapy socks.
Pretty sure I had that once. A sub-section of “Pity socks”, if memory serves…
I hate socks. And I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to cashmere. I find it itchy. That’s not normal, right? I don’t think anyone had ever given me socks as a gift, either. My mom sent me a bunch of orange socks once…like ten pairs of them. They were itchy and tight and strange, and I found it bizarre that she sent them to me in the first place. When questioned about it, she admitted that she had originally purchased the socks for herself but found them uncomfortable, so they went to me. She also once sent me some strange invention intended to stop nosebleeds cause I get them a lot. I never used it. My brother sent me a cat muzzle. Also unused. In summary, socks aren’t my thing.
I think you’re just trying to play it cool, Lenore.
I bet, deep down inside, you love socks. I mean, you wouldn’t just get your PhD in psycho-socks-ual behavior analysis if you didn’t find something particularly alluring about the subject, now would you?
Are you sure the nosebleed and the cat muzzle were not one and the same?
How does one muzzle a cat anyway? And why?
I mean, except a tiger or leopard or jaguar or man-eating domestic shorthaired.
I don’t think it was a cat muzzle.
It was a blindfold.
Back in the day before there was medicine for fleas and ticks for cats, you had to bathe them in WATER and FLEA SHAMPOO and they HATED it and they TORE YOU TO SHREDS!
When you put a blindfold on a cats, they go limp and you can bathe them carefully and nicely and the fleas and ticks go away and the cats don’t get upset and you are not bleeding freely from all the scratches on your body.
Think of this as a lesson in the old days, from mother.
That’s actually true.
I put a towel over my cats’ head when I clip their nails. I wouldn’t say they go limp, but they do calm down considerably. Enough for me to give them mani/pedis all by myself, anyway…
Hahaha, Irene. I remember that. When I was a teenager, it took two of us to hold down our cat while my dad rubbed the flea shampoo all over her. Then we’d let her go and she’d immediately bolt for the fence, scale it in one leap, and we didn’t see her again for hours.
Man, she hated that.
Kimberly I should have mentioned the “cut the unwilling cat’s toenails” bonus, but it’s a big one!
Richard, I hope you and your father wore heavy clothes and long sleeves and face protection!
Do you remember when the fleas got so bad they would just pop off of the rugs like popcorn? And your ankles were all covered with bites as though you had ankle acne?
Anyone here would be delighted to receive ten pairs of orange socks, Lenore.
You have no imagination.
Who said I meant them for your feet?
Pearls before swine,
pearls before swine.
I can not hear the term “business socks” and not think of Flight of the Conchords.
I like socks well enough. I appreciate them for their utilitarian nature – they keep me warm; they make my winter shoes fit. But I mostly find socks to be restrictive. And I can’t commit to just one pair of socks. And then I forget that I have socks until it’s one of those laundry weeks where I’m wearing those special lacy undies that I bought three years ago, took out of the package, and placed in my drawer and promptly forgot about. I go digging for these and there, way back in the corner, are the socks I really meant to love but just didn’t. Neglected socks.
I’ll take all your strappy shoes and send you all my socks. They’re hardly worn. Deal?
My use of “Business socks” was a flagrant nod to FOTC. Oh yeah!!
As for the rest: Wow. I must have written a more heavily-veiled piece than I thought. Clearly I’m out of practice. I guess I need to get me some Brush-up socks.
The innuendo and metaphor is wonderful. You should totally play it off like you meant to do it, even if you didn’t.
Oh but I did, dear Gloria. I did.
I think I get it now.
And I’m disgusted.
Also laughing quite a lot.
But mostly disgusted. When did TNB become so filthy?!
K-dub. Corrupting young minds since, like, forever.™
Well, the second most read post at TNB is about porn.
And this young man wrote it.
Congratulations TNB, you’ve done to my brain what they did to Alex in A Clockwork Orange.
But the reverse.
You see, Gloria? Even I can be a bit obtuse at times…
Tutto è claro.
Just when I was thinking, “a little bit of redhead would improve this day substantially.”
Yeah, I have to second Irwin–for me, socks are a purely functional article of clothing, and purchased accordingly. Black for when I have to wear dress shoes, white for all other times. I even buy the exact same type of Hanes men’s socks whenever they need replacing.
Though I have thought about getting a few roles of gray ones. After all, you only live once…
Doesn’t anyone read the tags???
Kimberly’s return post = Double entendre epic fail.
**hangs head in shame**
No. I didn’t.
I really do like socks.
Though in light of this development…which was always there and so not really a development, I’m not sure what the Freudian implications of knee-high socks and motorcycle boots are…
It’s okay, Becky. I put it there on the off-chance I wasn’t being obvious.
But clearly, I wasn’t.
Maybe I should have spelled it “sox”.
But then maybe people would have thought I was talking about baseball. 🙂
I got it. But then again, we were separated at birth. Do I get a prize?
Darling sister-Zara (Zister?) You are the only one so far!! 🙂 (Timestamp 5:45pm EDT 08/16/10) Triple-proof of our birthright!!
I have not yet begun to put together your surprise package #2 (#3?) but boy-howdy, do I promise it will be chockablock with delicious things.
Perhaps even some Delicious socks.
Because who doesn’t fancy Delicious socks?
Oh! delicious socks.
I love delicious socks.
A good sock is always delicious.
Zister, you rock. we rock. we rock our socks.
Sorry. Too excited to see that you’d posted again, and I read too fast without paying much attention to the peripheral details.
Plus, I did date a girl once who had a thing for socks, so it wasn’t much of a leap for me to take this at 100% face value.
I read the tags (after I told you to play it off like you meant it.)
As a Minnesotan, I’m forced to like socks. Or to be cold or miserable for months on end.
So I’ve made peace with socks, even though flip-flops are my preferred footwear.
No one was so happy as me about the fashion resurgence of clunky boots in recent years.
This means that I can wear leather mortorcycle boots, which are big and thick and warm enough to not necessitate thick, itchy socks.
I love motorcycle boots.
And knee-high socks.
Oh, and clearly the Freudian implications are that Minnesota girls prefer their socks Long and Rough.
I’m a sock fanatic as well. I realized only recently there are two things I have apparently never thrown away in my entire life: ink pens and socks. May your Christmas be merry.
Dude. It’s still summer.
Don’t close the window on Summer socks possibilities just yet.
Speaking of which… soes anyone have a tocolytic agent handy, to impede Labor Day?
It’s never too early to start making that list for Santa socks.
Kimberly! I was just having a discussion a little while ago on Irwin’s post about female pubic hair, and I remembered the DVD you sent me. And now here you are! Talking about socks, no less. Welcome back!
All this talk about socks makes me think, inexplicably, about golf. Well not that inexplicably. One thing people seem to forget is many courses contain wilderness areas where you and your lady friend can sneak into in the late evening hours, after playing a few holes, to enjoy your golf socks.
Golf socks. I see the connection: Wood, Iron, Balls, Holes in one. A total no-brainer.
Rough, swinging, Fore!(play)
And the longest club in the bag is called the Driver.
God knows we can’t forget the back nine.
Par for the course, Richard. Par. For. The. Course.
Jesus. I Googled “Golf Glossery) and can’t even get past the letter B.
What about the term “Below the hole?”
“Below the hole” describes the position of a golf ball in relation to the cup, or hole, once the ball is on the green.
I could be here all day. Must. Concentrate. On. Work.
Suits me to a tee.
Stolen from the Intarwebz. Rules of indoor golf.
1. Each player shall furnish his own equipment for play: normally one club and two balls.
2. Play on a course must be approved by the owner of the hole.
3. Unlike outdoor golf, the object of the game is to get the club in the hole, keeping the balls out.
4. For the most effective play, the club should have a firm shaft. Course owners are permitted to check the stiffness before play.
5. Course owners reserve the right to restrict the length of the club to avoid damage to the hole.
6. The object of the game is to take as many strokes as necessary until the course owner is satisfied the play is complete. Failure to do so may result in being denied permission to play the course again.
7. It is considered bad form to begin playing the hole immediately upon arrival at the course. The experienced player will normally take time to admire the entire course, with special attention to well formed mounds and bunkers.
8. Players are cautioned not to mention other courses they have played, or are currently playing, to the owner of the course being played. Upset course owners have been known to damage a player’s equipment for this reason.
9. Players are encouraged to bring rain gear along, just in case.
10. Players should not assume a course is in shape for play at all times. Some players may be embarrassed if they find the course to be temporarily under repair. Players are advised to be extremely tactful in this situation. More advanced players will find alternative means of play when this is the case.
11. Players should assume their match has been properly scheduled particularly when playing a new course for the first time. Previous players have been known to become irate if they discover someone else is playing what they considered a private course.
12. The owner of the course is responsible for the pruning of any bushes, which may reduce the visibility of the hole.
13. Players are strongly advised to get the owners permission before attempting to play the back nine.
13. Slow play is encouraged. However, players should proceed at a quicker pace, at least temporarily, at the course owner’s request of it, when it is about to start raining.
14. It is considered an outstanding performance, time permitting, to play the same hole several times in one match.
15. The course owner will be the sole judge of who is the best player.
16. Players are advised to think twice before considering membership at a given course. Additional assessments may be levied by the course owner and the rules are subject to change. For this reason, many players prefer to continue to play at a variety of different courses.
This cannot possibly be real. It is FAR too brilliant. I assume you are the man behind this particular level of genius.
Link for verification, please.
I totally want a shirt that says Course Owner.
Confession: I just googled “Rules of Indoor Golf” and while finding several links to RichRob’s hi-larious rules, I found this one to “Jam’s Indoor Golf” – which is an actual indoor golfing site.
For a good laugh, start reading at “Pace of Play” (keeping RichRob’s in mind) and skim through to the end.
I wish I could claim authorship, but this has been around for a while. You can find one version here.
You totally should have named your film Why We Prune the Bushes.
We thought about that, with a subheading:
Or, How I Learned to Stop Depilating and Shave the Plumb
But it didn’t seem as catchy.
I’ve always been slightly in awe and slightly frightened by that big blue bush.
I think it’s fabulous. What a great picture! What a fabulous link!
Kimberly, I don’t know why, but I’ve never fully explored your body of work prior to now.
Aw! You make-a me blush!
(Or should that be blueish?)
I don’t look at TNB for a few hours and not only are you back, but your posting’s attracted dozens of comments, from all the Right People.
Sock On, er Rock On.
In the colder places like Colden, socks rule. Smartwool with maybe a little Lycra.
Clock socks. I wonder if they’re still out there. I never had a pair.
The only sock problem I know is the wooden stairs / woolen socks / not quite awake or careless / slip, thud, damage done to knee or butt, depending on whether you’re going up or down.
Now as for Mr. Irwin’s take on socks, that there should be smut in all things, I will quote from memory part of a ballad well-loved by drunken students back in the day.
In days of old, when knights were bold
And birth control not invented
They wrapped a sock around the cock
And babies were prevented.
Oh lovely Don! Poster boy for TNB this week! Helllllooooooo!!
It wasn’t only Irwin who took a while to catch onto the double-entendre, but I’m glad to see, with your socksy poem, that you didn’t miss a beat.
It’s always about socks. Isn’t that what Freud said? 🙂
I was to ashamed to bring up ‘wank socks’ before I realised what this… this filth… was really about.
Don’s song seems an appropriate enough reason to bring it up.
Girls don’t have “Wank Socks”. Well… not in the way you mean…
Women *do* have Wank socks (in the way I mean) but the definition once again falls under a sub-category of “Pity socks” except it is when the we take pity on some poor wanker and gift him (or her) with socks.
It figure that girls don’t have wank socks.
I don’t have a wank sock, which ever definition you’re referring to…
Speaking of wank – I recently heard a great word: ‘WankTank.’ Perfect to describe a massive wanker.
Reminds me of ‘wank bank’
i.e. a library of mental images for enhancing masturbation.
For example, if a gentleman were to catch a glimpse of a particularly attractive and buxom young lady in town he may take a mental picture to savour in the privacy of his own chamber.
Tee hee hee hee hee.
A while ago two guy friends of mine were casually talking amongst themselves, I happened to be at the same table and caught their converstaion.
Guy number one asks “So, you do it to?”
“Of course! There’s nothing better than checking out a classy, beautiful chick and storing that mental image for later” says guy number two.
“Yeah, you bring up the picture in your mind’s eye and dedicate one [wank] to her.”
They both sit back, grin and nod their heads in unison.
I have missed you!
It’s too damn hot for socks where I am now, but when it’s cold, I am a sock fan also.
(So glad to see you back!)
Irene. It’s never too hot for socks.
How’s the kitchen coming? Can I still come over and cook your turkey?
(Wow. Given all this lascivious socks-talk, even THAT sounds dirty now.)
The kitchen was finished yesterday!
Come over to cook my turkey any time at all!
It’s never too hot for socks?
I’m all freaked out now…
Joe: Please click that last linky-poo and then re-read.
Everything will be revealed to you and you will be freaked out no longer.
i am having serious sock troubles myself at the moment. allow me to tell you about them. the company that used to make my nicely-colored socks (called hue) no longer makes them. i mean, they make socks, but only boring socks, and socks for women, which don’t fit on my feet, and have yodas and shit on em. so i spend all this time on the internet now obsessively looking for nicely-colored socks like my socks used to be before i laundered them 10,000 times, and not having any luck, while my socks slowly fray and float away… it’s very sad, and i’m running out of time.
and no, i don’t want argyle socks or socks with some cheesy dickhead on a horse on them. i just want nicely-colored socks. like maybe a sodium vapor-lamp orange… or a white blue like the mediterranean… really, anything, but bright and calm… i don’t feel like i’m asking for much…
i’m posting this here because it seems a likely place to complain.
i hope this is okay with you.
good to see you.
You can feel free to complain to me any time, any where about any thing.
Just so long as you understand that this is a post about sex.
And it was meant to be funny.
* * *
You should take a gander at The Sock Shop. (I FF’d you to the mens’ plain division.)
They are truly the nicest socks in the world.
i don’t believe in metaphors. SAY WHAT YOU MEAN. but thanks for the sock shop link.
even though it doesn’t seem to be working for me.
probably just a dildo site anyway.
Now you have to apologize for dissing my metaphorical allegory – since I found you your socks.
i apologize for dissing your metaphorical allegory. please post more pictures of food.
In that case, is it ok for men to darn their own socks, or will that upset their spouses/mates?
I believe one should take things on a sock-by-sock basis.
Ah, now I understand what a darning egg must be.
May I direct you to one order of Sodium-Orange (or more properly, Pantone 16-1388)??
they’re not bad, really, and i do appreciate it! but they have a “pantone chip” on the ankle!?? what is this, a joke? socks are not a joke! you of all people should know this.
i’m sorry, i’m having kind of a bad day. i ran out of artificial sweetener.
Dude. Step outside and take a deep breath of smoggy smogginess. It’ll all be okay in a few minutes…
(And don’t sweat it. It takes more than a little aspartame-deprived grumping to get me down.)
If you send me money I will cook nice food and take pictures of it.
Great. Just great. Look what you did to Ben. Now he’s got sock anxiety. Happy, everyone?
Cue Marvin Gaye:
♫ … When I get that feelin’ / I want Socksual Healing / Socksual, Healing, Baby / It’s good for me … ♫
I recently cleaned out the bottom drawer of my dresser because I was tired of forcing the overstuffed drawer shut forcing the entire thing to shudder. Among my discoveries? I have kid socks. maybe a few “teen socks” but mostly the kid variety. I favor bright stripes, dinosaurs, snowmen, turquoise lizards and orange dump trucks. Tucked way, way in the back are proper blacks, a few gray, and the errant sport sock ( who am I kidding with sport socks?) Apparently no one — hence the back of the drawer. Long comment short: I couldn’t get rid of any of them except for the white ankle variety. Apparently, my tennis days are over. Miss you — hope all is swell in Florida with Lullaby!
Florida is wonderful! Thanks for asking!
As for the socks – I think it wise to have the Best socks you can possibly have. What’s the point of life, but for Good socks?
The perfect socks will find their way into your drawer. Of that I’m sure. And you’ll be able to wear them with sandals. But I may have to wait to see you until pedicure day since I threw all mine away. 😉
You see? You know. You understand…
And so continues the search for Perfect socks…
The perfect sock doesn’t exist. Or maybe it does and we just haven’t found it yet. Sigh.
I love this post, have I mentioned that already??
Fortunately, we all have our own ideas of what constitutes Perfect socks.
(Hums in head: ♫ … what might be right for you, may not be right for some … ♫)
I prefer the last kind of socks I mentioned: Snuggly, tattered, broken-in, molded and formed over time for that “just-right” fit.
Best. Socks. Ever.
I want a pair of cuddly, good looking, sweet socks THAT LAST.
I will wish those socks for you on the very next eyelash that falls out, Zara.
Here I was, thinking that socks were little more than a sartorial booby prize. Socks are one of the greatest afterthoughts in my day-to-day. Maybe because I live in Southern California, where socks are often unnecessary, save for the suit-and-tie crew.
But growing up in New England, socks were the presents I got from people who either didn’t have much themselves or from people who didn’t know me. Big, wolly socks that made my feet itch from across the room. Maybe that scarred me on the whole sock thing. Idaho.
So thanks for presenting this revolutionary new perspective to foot cover things. I had no idea they even came in cashmere…
(*Ask Zara. She made me write it.)
* * *
However, excellent use of the word “sartorial.”
I’ll never tell. Not even if you threaten me with Guns and Roses, Joe.
Please note: Guns AND Roses. I refuse to write ‘N’
KDub: BADWAA. HAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHHAHHAHHA.
This made me think of Boyz N the Hood.
Or, as you may prefer, Boys In The Neighbourhood.
And I look it up and saw it was written by John Singleton.
But not the one who writes for TNB.
Pookie and Kimberly-
I simply insist that you let me in on the B.A.D.W.A.A! Come on! Why you got to do that to a brother?
Pookie, I won’t threaten you with Guns N’ Roses. But I have no problem taking your Savage Garden away. Oh, I’ll do it. Just try me!
My lips are sealed.
Torment is FUN!! 😀
But for the record, my biggest problem with socks is that I’m comfortable with half of them. When it comes to socks, I always have trouble finding the right one to match. I can never find the right one. Just when I think I do, I try it on for size and it looks great, but then I walk around for awhile and all of a sudden, it begins to make me sweat something fierce. So I get rid of it, but invariably, I find myself wishing I had held onto it. Basically I just can’t figure out the opposite socks.
You are obviously picking your socks up at the wrong places, Cupcake. And no, I will not tell you what BADWAA means! ahahhahahahahah. You can threaten me all you like with Savage Garden! Do your worst, Cupcake. I ain’t scared of you or your socks.
Babes Adore Daly While Argentina Applauds
Be Always Down With Aggressive Anal
Bone Any Damn Woman At All
Baby Asian Deer Wheat Aloof Askance?
Ha Ha Ha!
Bone Any Damn Woman At All.. That’s awesome!!!
How about – Bloody Annoying Daly Won’t Access Answer.
Berating A Daly Won’t Accomplish Anything
Being A Dick Will Absolutely Assist..
By Admitting Defeat, We Achieve Aims
Brilliant! Admitting Defeat? We Are Awesome.
Backoff, Assumptive Dude. Women Abhor Avarice.
I’m almost sure it’s the down-under equivalent of the Canadian “D.F.A.”
@Dwoz: “Deputy Facebook Administrators”???
(Only in Canada…)
I think I got all the way to Pity socks before I figured out what was going on. What does that say about me? Funny, funny.
Ha! It means you’re one of THREE people who got it without explanation!!!
VALIDATION IS MINE!!!
I don’t want to sound like I’m claiming a prize after the answer is announced, but I didn’t want to blurt out what I thought it was about, thinking it might be like a rorschach test, where you look at an indiscriminate blob of ink and say, “that’s two sheep fornicating,” look at the next blob, and say “that’s two women having lesbian sex,” etc.
Too late, Dwoz. Anyone can claim to have known the answer after it was spoon-fed… 😉
(G) Spot on. Great socks rocks!
I knew I could count on you, Jim! 😀
When are you coming back to St. Pete??? We need to hang out and drink gallons of bourbon – toasting Amazing socks!!!
Ah, St. Pete, home of Beach socks and Swimming Pool socks. Good times.
Don’t forget Mall socks and Movie socks.
Air Conditioned socks, yo.
God, I want me some socks exactly like those last ones you described. Why are they so hard to find?!?
You hear me too! One day, Becca, one day… I have hope for us all!
Growing up in Louisiana I had socks for winter (if you can call it that) of course but I honestly never gave them much thought. The first week after I moved to Washington State I was having dinner with friends and they were going off on the amazing attributes of Smart Wool socks. They were positively orgasmic in their descriptions. I thought they were loons. It was summer and even though it was chillier than I was accustomed to I was still enjoying sandal weather. Then came September and I began to have an inkling of the importance of the right sock. By January I would have sold my right arm for a good, REALLY good, pair of socks. Now in NC, I enjoy summer strappies sans socks but make an annual fall pilgrimage to REI for Smart Wool necessities. Just the other day I was thinking that Ella is getting old enough to hike for bits on her own (My back is SO grateful!) and she’ll need good socks and shoes for the fall. I’m beyond excited to shop for tiny ones. I wonder if she’ll express preferences.
Teensy socks are indeed adorable and I usually buy some for friends’ babies and toddlers because I can’t resist however…
With regard to the allegory of this post, (it seemed important to separate my comments given that I mention my kid in my previous comment) I think you might have overlooked an important ‘sock’ incarnation: the sheer pleasure of the boyfriend sock. You know, when you wake up with a terrible case of bedhead and your feet are cold and you wore high heeled strappy sandals and a cocktail dress the night before so you grab his dress shirt and socks off the floor to pad into the kitchen to make coffee. Ahh, nice memory of heterosexuality…
… I prefer
Also, I kind of feel like a dunce. This isn’t really an allegory, the way The Crucible is an allegory of the McCarthy Trials – it’s really just straight up metaphor and stupid punnery.
I used the word “allegory” because it sounded high-falutin’ and important at the time, but after a little bit of reflection on my 11th grade English classes, I suddenly remembered the difference.
I only mention this here, because you then repeated my use of it.
Thanks for not mocking me.
Eye am Sockless in Gaza. That’s probably too obscure of a Huxley reference, but it’s because I’m trying to avoid admitting that I wear those tiny ankle-cut things that for years my friends have been making fun of, frequently asking where the little pom pom on the back is, and calling me “Tracy Austin.”
Cheerleader socks, (pom-poms included) is one of Life’s great fantasies, no?
Balega socks — your best and most reliable friends…
Note to self… when lonely, find Balega socks. Gotcha.
I know, sounds weird, but try them, cushy, snuggly, and soft…it’s better than chocolate.
Since I’m not a fan of chocolate, I will imagine you said: “It’s better than potato chips.” 🙂
Darn it, it’s nice to have you back.
(Forgive me if someone made that joke already).
My being back is a joke to you???
Oh wait. “Darn” it. Gold[toe] star to you!
My wit is unraveling.
It has just occurred to me that no one has mentioned angry socks.
Or Make-up socks
(Or Break-up socks, for that matter)
But then again, I don’t think people are really reading-reading this. I think they’re skimming quickly and think I’m actually talking about the wooly/cottony/silky things one puts on one’s feet.
Even after I put a link at the end to clarify things.
And the tag that explicitly states that I’m not talking about socks.
You know, I got it on the first read through that you were speaking metaphorically, but I took it as dating in general, not sex specifically. (Which, if you read my first comment through that lens, it makes a lot more sense.) I thought you were too sophisticated for a gratuitous socks scene, but I see that it’s all socks and drugs and rock and roll with you.
I love migratory socks they always come home to a toasty dryer or hang out between billowing white sheets at the clothesline
home is where the socks are.
“Home is where the socks are”
Truer words were ne’er said! 🙂
You are too funny, my girl!
I was in stitches reading these lines:
“And while I’m certainly not condoning or recommending Business socks, or in a moment of weakness, succumbing to Pity socks, I can attest to the myriad of fabulous embellishments at a modern woman’s disposal – the very least of which are little strappy things, pumps, mules and the like. Merely slip on what suits your fancy and go, thereby avoiding the Emotionally-overwrought socks entirely!”
Ok, I’ll admit it took reading this twice for the penny to drop. But it’s 4:30 pm, the end of the day and my brain is fried.
BRAIN OVER… INSERT COIN.
And by “strappy things, pumps, mules and the like” I absolutely mean shoes…
… or do I?
I got it, Berly. But maybe that’s cuz we hail from the same bizarre corner of the world and so our brains are similarly wired.
I also always had a disappointing experience with socks. I wanted to like socks, but once I had them on they were always too tight, or too loose, or had a funny knot at the toe-line, or in the heel, or something. For years I went barefoot.
Here’s wishing you the perfect pair of socks. To rock your socks-socks off. 😉
Shoes… ? Really…? I had no idea!
I prefer socks found at a hotel bar. Quick and easy so I can get back to work.
I’m such a man.
Ducky, you are NOT a man!!!
You are just a duck who knows exactly who she is and what she wants, and no one could love you more for that than I !!!
Thanks for checking in and reading, displaced Brooklyn soul sister!!!
Ahhaaa ha ha ha ha ha…
It’s so perfect that you had to edit this for the sake of clarity because people weren’t getting it.
So, so, so perfect.
It will make me happy forever.
Oh, K-Dub. When you’re missing socks, all you really need is some socksual heeling.
At least, that’s what I’m told.
I especially love right now that a) there’s a brand over here called Explorer Socks, and b) sometimes I forget and call them Adventure Socks.
I’m DEFINITELY into learning more about Australian Explorer/Adventure socks!!!
(I mean, seriously what innocent American girl could refuse hot Outback socks?)
I felt a total dunce – and still do a little for having to clarify – but at least there are a few people in this crazy world of ours who got me from the get-go…
And at the end of the day, aren’t we all just looking for Understand socks??? 🙂
None of them.
For our traveling socks salesmen, that is.
Like these guys:
In the most non-euphemistically way possible, K-Dub, let me know if you guys get super-cold night and days, and I will send you some Explorer Socks (oh, goddamnit. There’s no way I can make this sound like I’m not propositioning you. I MEAN THE ACTUAL SOCKS! That sounds bad too. What have you done?? I mean THE SOCKS YOU PUT ON YOUR FE- I give up).
Understanding socks are some of the nicest socks you’ll ever have.
Sure. You can offer socks, but can you deliver?
Story of my life, Smithson… Story. Of. My. Life.
“Desperation socks are, quite simply, not attractive on anyone.”
“At the end of the day, it gets cold.”
Kimberly, you are awesome.
Yep. That about sums up the ongoing search. 😀
Thanks for reading and chiming in, Lisa Rae!! One day, I hope to get my booty out to LA and meet all you crazy/wonderful/beautiful TNB-westcoasters…
You’ve been missed, love!
I wonder if Bill and Hillary really liked socks?
I think they did, perhaps every leap year 😉
but seriously rest in peace socks
(Oh geez… now look what I’ve started!)
Hey! The redhead’s back! *hee* So glad to see you here, my dear – and with a straight and frank socks talk, no less. I hate those Look at me socks, too. All my socks are black. My problem is that even THOSE don’t match. Ridiculous. At least you sort of have to be looking close to be able to tell.
Sometimes, Secret socks are lovely too…
** tangent **
What’s your book being released? I’m DYING to read it!!!
I’ve missed you, Kimberly.
Socks or no socks.
It’s good to see you back 🙂
No, no, Slade… it is I who missed you.
I got your Tampa dates wrong in my calendar. I thought you were here this weekend, not last.
I sock. 🙁
No worries. The upside is that they LOVED me there. I should have return date in my Inbox this week. It will certainly happen again.
So you don’t feel too bad, I forgot as well. Megan reminded me but it was too late…
I think I’ve asked you this before, but: do you ever come to Portland?
@Slade: Let me know! I pinky-swear to write it down properly and show you ’round! kmwss2c at the gee to the alternative spelling of male.
@Gloria: And here I thought you were talking to me… 🙁
I’m actually working on Harvey’s. I do Seattle, I’ve just never made it down to Oregon yet. Probably early next year. They just opened a new club there, so Harvey’s is a bit more willing to bring in new blood, which is good for me.
Dude. Let’s be clear: you come to Portland and you’re schedule will be instantly filled with all kinds of red head zaniness. AND you’ll have a free place to stay. And by place I mean couch.
also, your not you’re
I highly endorse the idea of your socks one day meeting my socks. I think they’d get along quite well. And heck, think of all the cute little socks they could make if they ever decided to sock fock.
Dang. We’d never have to buy socks again…
Dearest Richard. That is the socksiest dream ever…
Thanks for reading. You’re the peachiest. ~xo
“Nobody touches the Sockbaby Jesus”
“so ya wanna play”
Around the house, I go barefoot. It’s where I don’t have to wear footwear, after all. I like to be free and comfortable.
I wear whites to the gym. Usually Target-bought. Some ankle, some calf. Lots of cotton under sneakers that weigh only a few ounces. I wear whites a lot, considering I work in a gym.
I wear darks to dress it up a bit. Can’t wear athletic socks with jeans, after all; might as well wear sandals to the prom. I have some thicker darks I tend to wear with jeans, as well as some thin darks I wear with suits. Some have patterns, some are just plain black. A few are just plain blue. I’m never sure anyone can tell the difference, but I know.
Socks are great. I’ve heard that one of the surest ways to rejuvenate your day is to change your socks. It’s amazing the effect different socks can have on perspective.
Which is why, of course, I own lots of socks. I wear lots of socks. All the damned time. Even when I wear athletic socks, sometimes they’re higher or lower. Even when I wear dark socks, sometimes they’re plain and sometimes they’re patterned and sometimes they’re thin and sometimes they’re thick. I mean, how could one ever get away with owning only one pair of socks, ever, for life?
I’m totally talking about socks. I’m probably talking about something else, too.
Which only leaves one thing left to say:
Sock it to me!
Hey, if you believe in the hereafter, you know what I’m here after!