I'll Take the Black Ones - Everytime

Hello Cyberspace.


Well, I've got to tell ya, I'm just a little disappointed in myself. I'm not the type to be overly concerned with my clothes...I'll wear pretty much anything as long as it doesn't smell like poo. One thing that I do like to keep relatively clean and new-looking, however, is sneakers.

Growing up, I always wore white sneakers. They were bright and shiny for the first couple of weeks; but before long they began to turn yellow, as all white sneakers eventually do. Sometime around the beginning of my high school career, I was convinced to make the switch and start wearing black kicks.

My first pair lasted me two years. Reebok basketball shoes. I usually don't have any problem with premature wear on my shoes, but would retire a pair due to the stains that I couldn't get off. 

Then I was introduced to the toothbrush cleaning method. This brought me back to the white shoe world of possibility...because let's be honest, there should only be three colours of men's shoes - black, white and brown.

Let me get to the point. My shoes are now white, and covered in red dust from the MotoCross race I attended over the weekend. I need to get out the old toothbrush. I remember now why I stopped buying white shoes. When I can afford it again, I'll be getting some black sneakers again. I'm way too lazy for this whiteness.

Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger

PS - This was inspired by a poem about old age...I finally understand it now.


How do I know my youth has been spent?
'Cause my "get-up-and-go" got up and went!
But in spite of all that, I'm able to grin
when I think of where my "get-up-and-go" has been!

Old age is golden. I've heard it said.
But sometimes I wonder as I go to bed--
my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup,
my eyes on the table until I wake up.

When I was young, my slippers were red.
I could kick my heels up over my head.
When I grew older, my slippers were blue,
but I could still dance the whole night through.

Now I am old. My slippers are black.
I walk to the corner and puff my way back.
The reason I know my youth has been spent--
my "get-up-and-go" got up and went!

I get up each mornin' and dust off my wits;
pick up the paper and read the obits.
If my name is missin', I know I ain't dead,
so I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.

-Anonymous