Marry Me!

Sometimes I wish I wasn't driven to succeed on my own, and I could just pull an Anna Nicole, strip for a few years, and marry a wheelchair-bound, on-his-deathbed billionaire and be set for life. Unfortunately, as it were, I'm one of those annoying "I need to support myself so if my husband leaves me I'm not totally fucked" type of women, so I have to work hard for my paychecks. Right now, I'm employed at a fabulous (not!) sit-down pizza chain as a server, but that's just while I scour Chicago for internships and until I graduate college. The money there is surprisingly good, but since I'm only a seasonal employee my cash is running low. I'm coming back for Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks, and after I walk out of the restaurant's revolving door I'm walking straight into the mall it is connected to, into DSW, and buying these babies:

Good lord, the things I would do for a pair of these Steve Madden patent leather Mary Jane pieces of eye candy, and for sixty dollars, they're just within reach!

Wish me luck, and if you know where I work, come in and tip me, and help support my addiction!