Superheroes

I was feeling badass ninja today. I got dressed in my tight, black skinny jeans, a black top, and black patent leather peep toe platform pumps that showed off my fire-engine red shellacked toenails. I topped it with a sleek black jacket and black cap, jumped into my black Porche Carrera convertible and roared off to work, radio turned up loud and my stick-straight, long, light brown hair streaming behind me.

Then I did some ninja shit, got all the bad guys, went home and had a Grey Goose martini (shaken) with two olives in an ice cold glass while sitting on the deck of my yacht.

Well, almost.

I only have about four pair of pants that I really like but I go through a daily ritual of looking at all my pants, from left to right as they hang in the closet, before selecting the pair I really want. Today I picked my black skinny jeans - using my secret mathematical algorithm for selecting pants - and a top long enough to cover the fly that won't lie flat when I sit down. The armbands I wear to relieve the pain of tennis elbow poked out beneath the three-quarter length sleeves.

I haven't had a pedicure in six months so sandals were definitely out of the question - not to mention it was probably still a little early in the year for that. I figured if I wore the peep toe shoes I would only have to paint the toes that peeped.

I applied a single layer of red polish to my big toes and their nearest neighbors and then used my blow dryer alternately between my hair and feet. Having burned my forehead the day before, I decided not to curl my hair and running late for work I applied leftover makeup. This technique is based on an assumption that there is probably still makeup in my makeup brushes from the day before - which reminds me I should probably clean my makeup brushes.

With my toes still wet I put on pink rubber flip flops, a Jack Daniels "Field Tester" ball cap to cover my grey roots and my company-logoed jacket , got into my 11 year old convertible and dropped the top before I noticed a big gob of bird shit on the window. Damn! I flip-flopped back into the garage and got a Windex wipe, cleaned up the gob and started again.

I tied up my hair into a loose ponytail, accidentally including the string that holds my bifocals, tuned in NPR, and drove to work in heavy traffic, focusing the floor vents onto my feet to complete the drying process.

When I got to work, I shoved my feet into my pumps and looked at my pale and veiny feet and wondered what the hell I was thinking. Who cares if only four toe nails are painted? - I thought and put my flip flops back on.

I did tax returns for about ten hours, drove home in the rain, and had a glass of wine before I reheated leftovers and went to bed. Some ninja.

I wonder what Batman does on Friday nights.