Bloggers Megan of Soy Boy Mama and Holly of Bringing Home the Bacon have survived growing up in the '80s, college, graduate school, married life, motherhood and the corporate jungle. Now living several states apart, they are counting on several good rounds of artificial pig sex to allow them to be reunited this summer.
Earlier this week via email…
I am sitting here wearing my new boots. FREE to me because I am a big-time blogger and was offered them to review. The company sent an email two weeks ago and said they wanted me to review a pair of boots. I got to choose my preferences from three styles and they arrived today.
Of course, now I have to think of something clever to say on the blog besides, "I got these boots to review and they are awesome."
Megan: OK, first, totally awesome and cool that you got shit for free for being a blogger. I have blogger envy.
Two, and holy shit. This isn't a $3 bottle of Soft Scrub. Those suckers are more than $100.
Three, I gotta ask: What were the two other styles offered to you? 'cause while those boots are kickin', I'm kind of laughing at the holy-shit-what-ISN'T-included-in-the-name-and-design-of-these-boots thing going on. We got country, we got black, we got pink, we got tattoos, we got riding, we got loving, we got anteaters -- is it saying you love anteaters? you love to ride anteaters? you love to ride tattooed anteaters diagnosed with breast cancer (do anteaters have breasts and if so, how hard are they to milk)?
OK, done with questions and jealousy and I'll try to move forward with trying to be helpful. Hmmm ... a toughie.
What your husband has to say is always priceless.
Have you earned the right to wear such awesome boots, or do you feel like a poser? Is it releasing any inner-biker, rodeo chick? Escapism?
Can they bridge your two worlds between farm and corporate life? Or do you feel like Mr. Rogers -- like, instead of changing from your dress shoes to your tennis shoes, you change from your heels to your cowboy boots to signal a change in your environment and your role within it?
I just bought Uggs because it is supposed to get so f-ing cold here -- it seems everyone out here wears them -- so I assimilated when I swore I'd never own a pair of Uggs. I love them. shhh, don't tell anyone. Do you feel that way about cowboy boots?
Do you have a nickname for the boots or your persona when you wear them? How do they make you feel -- how do they make your husband feel -- how do you think your minister, your mother-in-law, fellow runners, etc. would react if they saw you wearing them?
And what the hell is a high-tech design? I'm picturing a killer robo-anteater created in a sub-terrain lair in Finland (just 'cause I don't trust those Finnish).
Entertain me, but make me want to buy a pair because without them, I will be nothing. My life will be meaningless. (Of course, if you threaten to wear those in Des Moines, I'm going to have to just so I can be cool enough to hang with you. Damnit.)
Holly: These boots in all their pink-ribboned tattooed-anteater Footloose preacher's daughter wonderfulness are NOT what I would normally buy for myself. And they pose a fashion conundrum. These boots are not content to demurely peek out from under my boot-flared jeans. NO. These boots need the full attention that can only come from being wrapped around a skinny jean or holding up the hem of a distressed skirt.
Also, a full review cannot be complete until these things have some pig shit under the heel.
When Husband and I first started going to pig events, I dressed like I was going to the barn. There was going to be dust and dirt and crap (literally) all over the place and it didn't even dawn on me to wear clothes that I would wear to work or to a party. For a while that worked. I was there with the men and with the middle-aged school teachers on break who often accompanied their husband farmers to the shows while wearing their sensible shoes and plaid shirts.
And then the tide turned and a new generation of farm wives started coming to the shows wearing flip flops and coiffed hair and make-up--dammit, they were wearing make-up. And suddenly these pig shows became fashion events. Even little girls were wearing bejeweled belts and big chunky necklaces with crystal pigs dangling below. It wasn't enough anymore that you kept the streaks of black dirt off your baby's face with a wipe, you were to bring her to the show in a coordinated vest and matching hair bow. I knew I was behind the times when I realized that one of our customers at our spring pig auction was wearing more jewels and more make-up and better hair, frankly, than I had at my wedding.
So I tried to clean up my act. I started wearing nicer shirts and bought a few chunky necklaces to coordinate. I curled and sprayed my hair before the 7 a.m. Yorkshire show, instead of just applying a headband. However, I could NOT bring myself to risk squishing you-know-what between my toes, so I did keep wearing practical sneakers, even if shoes and socks stood to completely ruin the effect of my top and capri pants.
Sooooo, when I saw these boots I thought about all that I am NOT at these pig shows like edgy, stylish, a tinge impractical (plain brown boots would serve the same foot-covering purpose, you know). This is my chance to push back my impending plaid-shirt wearing era while I’m still young enough to pull off black suede and pink roses.
Megan: Sassy. You go girl, but be warned, I will be calling you "RodeoBaby" from now on. (And note how they used CamelCase in naming the boot .. you know ... just to reinforce how techie they -- and their Finnish killer robo-anteaters -- are.)
Holly: Country Outfitter, a retailer of ariat rodeobaby boots, sent me these rodeobaby rocker square toe boots to review. And if they don’t change their minds after reading this, I will do a full pig-shit certified review after Christmas when I get a chance to slap on some skinny jeans and head out to a pig auction.
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