I’m ready for this craze to end:
Last night there was an infiltrator at the sorority alumnae happy hour (yes, I’m a sorority alumna). He was actually from Las Cruces, a town I like, but had escaped long ago to Chicago and then to New York. He talked a lot about fashion and how little he knew about sports. He didn’t even bring the clothes he would wear out in NYC because people here wouldn’t understand the fashion. I started to wonder if we were that backwards. And then I remembered Crocs. We pretty much are.