SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE DOUGH CRUST AND THE EXPENSIVE FOOTWEAR

An article I read recently defined Manolo Blahnik shoes as being far better than sex for most women. Which, if true, is staggering. And staggering is exactly what the wearer of such idiotic high-heeled monstrosities will do.
Stiletto heels are probably the stupidest thing ever invented, as they serve no purposes other than damaging the back of the victim and making it harder to run away from her playboy assailant, draining her own or some rich sugar daddy's bank account, and straining all the muscles she needs for kicking people and trotting up and down the San Francisco hills.


The article posited that given a choice between completely delicious nastiness and Manolo Blahniks, most women take the shoes.


Men are not like that. Many choose pizza instead.


It's the intelligent thing to do.


Putting all members of the San Francisco Forty Niners or the SF Giants into tall, tall, tall Manolo Blahnik pumps would accomplish two things: it would make women realize how utterly silly those items are, while simultaneously driving men away from sportsbars. The increased interaction among couples would then lead to a rise in sexual activity, and possibly drive the divorce rate through the roof.


Sales of take-out pizza, however, would skyrocket.


Men need something to take their minds off sex.


I've just realized that I have a problem.


I am only mildly intrigued by pizza.


And I don't watch sports.


Food for thought.



This explains why I'm not dating anybody.



Blahnik, pepperoni, and ballplayers.




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