Lame Adventure 272: The White Stuff’s Back

It last snowed in The Big Apple in 2011 on October 29th when a freak Nor’easter shattered October snow records dumping close to three inches of snow in Central Park.  I have resided in New York for almost 30 years and have never once experienced snow in October.  I was a bit miffed at the timing of that autumn snowfall because my old snow boots had sprung leaks from the previous hard winter.  Loathing boots that produce wet socks, I ordered replacement snow boots from the Lands’ End Ugly Style Great Price Collection on October 21st.

New snow boots. Ugly style. Great price.

I figured that was easily a month before I could possibly need them.  My new boots had shipped October 24th but I did not receive them until two days after that storm on October 31st.  Happy Halloween to me.

Fast forward to the present when I can finally wear my new Ugly Style Great Price Collection snow boots.  I break them in when I drop a lit match on my kitchen floor and I stomp it out with my left boot.  The match is swallowed whole into the deep grooves of the boot.  Fearing that very soon my left foot will ignite, I risk an expensive neck injury and contort myself Cirque du Soleil-style to examine the boot’s grooves for signs of flame, or at least signs of the expired match.  There’s no sign of fire or any match detritus whatsoever.  I think:

Me:  Well, that’s odd.

Apparently my new Ugly Style Great Price Collection snow boots have some appetite, or else my foot could spontaneously burst fully into flames and then cough up the remains of that missing match.  I’ll keep you posted.

Foot in Ugly Style Great Price Collection snow boot with power to devour lit matches whole.

Since there’s nothing unusual about snow in January in New York City I venture outdoors to check out the action in Riverside Park.

Currier and Ives-y looking southern entrance to Riverside Park.

Eleanor Roosevelt statue wearing a shawl of snow as well as an insulting splat in the eye.

I imagine that kids that had been aching for an opportunity to go sledding down the park’s hills all winter are now in their bliss, but I notice this sign.

Shirley, you jest!

Upper West Side kids and their parents are clearly undaunted.

"We will not be denied!"

As I trek through my neighborhood I see more familiar sights of the season.

Unhappy Vespa, "Someone please tell my owner it's winter!"

Unhappier bike, "Why the hell can't you take the rest of me inside?"

Uncollected trash, "If bags had middle fingers we'd flash them at that annoying blogger-photographer in those Ugly Style Great Price Collection snow boots."

6 responses to “Lame Adventure 272: The White Stuff’s Back

  1. Hope your foot has not yet caught fire. That’s the weirdest thing I ever heard. And, by the way, they could be way uglier–small comfort, I know–but that’s as good as it gets this weekend, my friend.


    • I have since removed the boots and conducted my own CSI investigation of what happened to that match, but I saw no evidence of it. Maybe it fell out in Riverside Park’s snow — or maybe my boot will combust at 3 am? Hm, think I’ll park it in the bath tub tonight. Hugs back, Buddy!


  2. Snoring Dog Studio

    I love the photo of Eleanor! She’s so much prettier with a covering of snow. I’m thinking I need a pair of ugly boots, too. It’s quite soggy here this winter. I can never wear my street shoes to walk to work but I have contemplated covering them with plastic bags.


    • Ah, galoshes gone ghetto! You go, girl! About that ER statue conveniently located within spitting distance of my humble abode, there are approximately 300 statues throughout NYC — the overwhelming majority of arguably great men (yes, Newt Gingrich is one of those guys and yes, I just made that up to set you off — NYC would sooner blow taxpayer dollars and shill for donations to build a monument to a giant pigeon turd than that egotistical hypocritical blowhard). ER is only one of four statues of great women. The other three are Harriet Tubman, Golda Meir and Gertrude Stein. There are also statues of mythical female figures like Mother Goose and The Playboy Centerfold (and yes, I’m yanking you again, pal). The Statue of Liberty is in a league of her own.


  3. My lands End boots are the even fuglier twin sisters of yours


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