How did two girls who were about as close as havarti cheese and egg salad should be on a warm summer day become tighter than the notorious rap duo Salt and Pepa?
Like two recently minted coins, we graduated from college, shiny and stupid, ready to dive into the world of becoming legitimate human beings. We both attended Midwestern colleges (heels went to University of Wisconsin-Madison, flats went to Miami of Ohio), both majored in communications, drank our way through college and both had the intent to join the “fabulous and glamorous” world of PR. Little did we know long days, crazy clients and a sorority house full of 20-something girls waited for us on the other side.
Like two pimple faced teens holding their lunch trays the first day of high school, heels and flats started interning together at the same PR firm in Chicago. Flats had it a little more together than heels and heels, seeing an opportunity to befriend someone who knew her way around the joint, sought out flats friendship, much to her dismay.
See heels is what you would call a grade-A psycho. Not in every sense of the word but when it comes to work and making some dali lamas, she twitterpates more than Bobby Brown’s hand clutching a fresh hit of smack.
Our first encounter was not what you would call a joint effort. One blistering cold day last October, heels blew into flats’ tiny intern room like a tornado. I have trouble recalling the memory, as I've tried to block it out it was so traumatizing to my ears. I had never spoken a word to her and yet she came spinning into my room, decked to the nines, spewing verbal diarrhea about anything and everything. I had never heard someone talk so fast in my life. While she ranted and raved at an inhuman speed, I watched in amazement wondering if she had overdosed on caffeine or maybe pulled a Sarah Michelle-Gellar circa the late 90’s, horny teen phenomenon, “Cruel Intentions,” and blew lines secretly in the bathroom. Why was she talking to me, were we friends, did she think I wanted to get verbally assaulted? Had I blacked out at the intern lunch two weeks ago and invited this basket-case into my life?
Fast forward 14 months later and not only can I not shake this basket-case like that bad blind date you just want to forget, she’s somehow convinced me to start this damn blog with her.
Whatever, she can make me sound like a needy girlfriend all she wants, but she wanted this blog just as much as I did. This is a consensual blog relationship and no claims of blog rape will even be considered. We figured we’re funny and we want the world to know it.
We both ended up getting hired, flats always one step ahead of heels, and now a year and a half later, flatsvsheels was born. Flats refuses to wear heels and heels rocks the stiletto like it’s going out of style. If you know us, you can probs figure out who's who; so keep it to yourself, we want to keep our anonymity.
The whole world is about three drinks behind,
heels and flats