1:16 pm | 14 April 2003 | these boots were made for hobbling

In the pantheon of Things That Are Not Fair, this is a small complaint. Nevertheless, it is a legitimate one, so here goes.

As many of you may have deduced from my protracted and repeated bitchings on the subject, i am tall, and therefore sometimes experience difficulty garbing myself appropriately. My ankles see more sunlight than any other part of my body, due to grievously (yet, in some circles, hiply) short trousers. And sleeves? Forget it. I have accustomed myself to having perpetually frostbitten (in winter) or sunburnt (summer) wrists.

Yet at least manufacturers make an effort to produce tall clothing. For an additional $2 or $3 (which is total bullshit), I can get that extra crucial three inches of fabric that reduce my similarity to the rapidly-expanding Incredible Hulk in mid-transformation. But hey, guess who's still not on this bandwagon? Oh, yes. Cobblers.

I'm not talking fruity desserts*. I am talking shoes, people. Or, more specifically, boots. I am at the present time wearing a pair of boots that in other respects fits decently (heel not too excruciating, and they have a stretchy, narrow shaft so as to actually cling to my apparently skinny calf). What is wrong, you ask? Why, they are too short. The top of the boot that is meant to be at the narrowest part of the knee instead halts abruptly mid-calf, curving inwards for no reason, cutting off circulation (and thus reducing the graceful swell of my hot gams to a shape not unlike the letter B). Then the part of the boot that is meant to embrace the widest flare of the calf is left flapping like a shark's fin on the lower part of my leg, where no such allowance is necessary. Why, you assholes? Why wouldn't things come in different heights? You make boots for people with fat calves...why not for us longshanks? Ughhh. Will my agony ever cease? No. No. clm.

* Mmm. Fruity desserts.