High heels and Milk bottles

Whenever an occasion to wear high heels presents itself, I normally jump on the opportunity (but not too high for fear of breaking my ankle). Masochistically, I actually enjoy the look of high heels. I do not, however, enjoy the results of the aforementioned activity.

Ninja, Monte and I are singers sometimes. Yesterday, we all had the opportunity to sing at a retirement home for a kind of charity concert--an occasion which called for looking classy. Granted, it didn't require that I wear four-inch-high open-toe spectator pumps, but this was a matter of professional integrity! (Not really.) Today, there is an open wound the size of a pencil eraser on my left heel, and my right pinky toe has been complaining all day and threatening to develop a blister. Next time I decide wearing heels is a good idea, get out the wolfsbane and silver bullets. Put me out of my misery beforehand.

So, as I was eating this morning's doughnut (and weeping silently at the shoe choice of the day before), I saw something on the milk bottle that said "Everything we say and do begins and ends with the customer." A perfectly benign statement. However, as I began to imagine this, I couldn't help but give in to my geekiness and imagine the html coding for this image.

Farmer: [the customer] Betsy is worth way more than that! [/the customer]
Buyer: But she has only two spots. I sill not pay more than that for a cow with only two spots.
Farmer: [the customer] Dinah has five spots. I would gladly sell Dinah to you. [/the customer]
Buyer: I don't want Dinah, though.

*clears throat* Not sure what deep corner of my mind that dialogue came from, but I giggled at the thought of farmers who speak in html. Call me weird. Go ahead, I accepted my identity long ago.

By the way, if you were expecting this to make sense, prepare to say goodbye to your sanity, for you have entered the wrong blog.

Signing Out,

Fireball