Efuckingads. If it’s not moon boots, it’s something else.
Listen, bitches. I know it’s cold right now here in New York City (it’s December! go figure!), but we are not living on the tundra. This means you must get rid of the freakishly furry boots that look like you shoved your feet up the asses of two anemic Smurfs
and stop clomp-trudging down Broadway like you’ve just left your studio-size igloo and are on your way to the fishin’ hole to catch tonight’s dinner. May I suggest less atrocious footgear and a trip to warm Zabar’s?
Also, can one of you silly little nincompoops tell me what’s up with combining these furked-up boots with flippy little cheerleader-esque miniskirts and bare legs? You can’t have it both ways, Barbie. You just can’t.