In Merland, there are currently four major doctor players.
We’ve got the doctor tag team of Dr. Sister and Dr. Brother-in-Law, both horribly useful in the medical field.
We’ve got Dr. Sally, my resident scientist and head of R&D, who does cool shit with cells and viruses and looks mad hot in a lab coat.
And last but nowhere near least, we’ve got my pops, Dr. Ted, who’s a law professor and a doctor of history (which makes him not reeeeeeally a doctor, but no need to mention it to him).
Now, I have not made much mention of Dr. Ted these past few months, but that’s mostly because I’m a horribly ungrateful internet daughter (while being the best real-life daughter, albeit with a smart and bitchy mouth, there is).
Shut it, Dr. Sister. You know I’m right.
Also, he hates it when I make fun of him. Which is why I only do it to his face and rarely on the internet.
dr. ted is verrrrr seeeeeerious. verr.
See? I’m super considerate.
This past weekend, I accompanied Dr. Ted on a trip deep into the Midwest – St. Louis — where it was ridiculously cold, had a wonderful visit with my paternal family, including the happiest, most gorrrrrrrrrrgeous kids ever – my cousin’s babes (of whom I OF COURSE forgot to take photos, oy) – and returned home to ColdLanta, where it is currently 28 degrees.
Mm, pissy tangent. Ignoring. Moving right along.
In one of many inane conversations my father put up with from me – there was a plane; I couldn’t drink; my relatives are loud; so there was oxycodone involved – I mentioned not actually owning shoes for cold weather anymore.
AHA! I could hear the hamsters running in Dr. Ted’s brain. A birthday present! At long last! I know what my dear daughter wants! Not like she’s been begging for things on her blog for weeks!
Anyway. Thus began The Great Boot Search of 2010.
So, I DSW-ed. I Macy’s-ed. I Kohl’s-ed. I Targeted. I Bakers-ed. I Aldo-ed. I Nordstrom-ed. I Penney’s-ed. Hell, I even Overstock.com-ed.
My lovely tweeps really pulled their shit together to pooh-pooh and tsk at more than one of my choices – because, sister mercy, we know I cannot be trusted to make such an important decision on my own – but I could not find THE BOOTS.
And then? I Zappo’s-ed. And lo, there they were, the most beautiful creatures these orbs have ever beheld.
oh, my sweet, sweet red lovelies. sigh.
Ok, that’s maybe hyperbole, because, as you’ll recall, Libby is perhaps the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen. But they’re a close second!
INSERT PLOT TWIST!
These majestic pieces of footwear? DO NOT EXIST IN MY SIZE! Nay, they do not exist in a size NEAR to mine! A Zappo’s rep on Le Tweet even contacted the manufacturer for me and said the manufacturer, in what I’m sure was a super snotty voice, not only do they not have any in my size ANYWHERE, despite the obvious demand, they’re not ever making them again.
Ok, look, y’all. I know the three econ classes I took in college were, without a doubt, the single worst grades I got, probably because I rarely showed up, but I understand supply and demand.
THIS IS MOTHERFUCKING DEMAND.
So then, with a sluggish heart, I re-Macy’s-ed. I re-Zappos-ed. I re-DSW-ed. And I sighed very big sighs.
…And got them in gray.
 And a shout out to my UCI lovelies, who are almost doctors, and the magical Dr. Tia, who just tossed her cap a few weeks ago.
 No, really. He’d be the first to say I fucking rock. Ok, maybe without the profanity. Unless he’s been drinking. It’s a tossup, really.
 Lord, I’m an ass.
 I know, I’m big on this sort of title. No, I won’t get over it any time soon. It’s a habit. Can’t help myself.
 It is important to note that these boots had to differ from the OTHER BOOTS of which you are no doubt acutely aware. Those boots are, A, still very dirty; B, very thin (probably fake) suede, without a lining; and C, on spindly little heels that, frankly, with the headache and ensuing medications I should probably not be attempt to wear. I know, just another step along the sensory-deprivation highway. Sigh.
 Best customer service interaction EVERRRRR, despite failing completely.