While blissfully thumbing through the latest edition of InStyle (Oh Renee! Please change your hair!) on the tarmac of Logan Airport in Boston, I found myself gagging.

In the middle of an article on the hot dresses of the summer was an ad for this.

I literally gagged. This isn’t Adrienne exaggerating the details in order to write something pithy. The horror of a high-heeled Croc hit me and my gag reflex went off.

It’s not like the bastard child of the Ugg and the Croc was bad enough. Now they have ugly, plastic shoes that make you taller and masquerade as “tasteful.”

There is also a wedge version. Somewhere on earth a beautiful Louboutin or Ferragamo died for these shoes.

It seems that I heard rumors of these shoes. However, I blocked it out, like I block out other awful concepts, such as the Vols losing or Obama winning the presidency.

The ad* is awful. Aside from having three types of fonts, they use the word “anti-microbial” as a selling point. Shoes are on your feet. They’re going to get dirty. Dirt carries germs. Trying to have germ-free shoes is a losing battle.

Someone please make them go away. Send them to anti-microbial hell. Please.

*The ad isn’t online, so I’ll try to scan it in and post.

Back to being a Croc-hater today.

Yesterday, I decided to keep the Crocs on and call in Maven Mom’s bet. I wore them on the Metro at rush hour to Union Station and then Ebenezer’s for the NCC Good Friday Service.

It was an interesting experience. I got a lot of strange looks from people. Probably the same look I give people when they wear the ugly shoes in public. I deserved it. I had orange boats on my feet.

Normally, I adhere to the 75% black clothes ratio that people follow in DC, so I didn’t feel too bad about being a “What Not to Wear” victim for one day.

Now that I spent a day walking around in Crocs, I’m wondering what the deal is.

Most people justify their ugliness by exclaiming how comfortable they are. Umm…they’re just not that comfortable. Numerous Croc lovers had told me that they feel like walking on pillows. Didn’t get that feeling.

Several pairs of my shoes were just as comfortable or more so. My Uggs (also ugly, but more allowable), trainers and many of my ballet flats. All very comfortable. Aerosoles are more comfortable and the brand has gone a long way in the past few years towards designing cuter shoes.

Argue with me if you remain a lover of Crocs, but I spent a day in those shoes. There is absolutely nothing on earth that justifies something that ugly.

Last night, one of our VPs at nonprofit job declared today to be Spirit Day in honor of March Madness. I almost felt sorry for him since he’s a UGA alum, but then I thought, “Ugh. Georgia. HA! Y’all LOST!”

This was perfect since I’ve been plotting all week how to wear UT stuff to work. We have casual Friday, but a zip-up hoodie is pushing it. Someone has to show these whimpy AU fans how it’s done in the SEC.

The declaration of Spirit Day allowed me to take it to the next level.

I went home and dug through all my orange regalia. Should I wear my orange polo or “Smokey Is My Homeboy” shirt? (It’s the office, so I went with the polo).

I couldn’t find my Power T dangle earrings, but I still had Volunteer ribbon for my hair.

• Orange polo. check.
• UT zip-up hoodie. check.
• Orange muffler and gloves. check
• Canvas UT purse with Power Ts. check.
• Volunteer ribbon. check.

Then I realized that I had one more UT item. Did I dare wear them and officially become a hypocrite? When Maven Mom gave me the UT Crocs, I swore that I would never wear them in public. Then she offered me $100 to take pixs wearing them in front of monuments. The money is tempting, but I haven’t had time to take her up on it.

I made a compromise today.

I wore my black Converses on the Metro and changed into my UT Crocs at the office. Since my cube is mostly decorated in orange, I figured my co-workers would let it pass. Everyone knows how much I love the Vols.

Today, I temporarily resign as president of the Anti-Croc Coalition and hand the reigns over to Mrs. M. Tomorrow, I’m back to being a Croc-hater.

A Tennessee girl has to show her pride. As the Vol Abroad says on her blog, “You can take the girl out of Tennessee, but you’ll never get her out of orange leisure wear.”

GO VOLS!

Friday I learned the hard way that Uggs aren’t meant for running.

It was 8:40 a.m. when I stepped off the Metro. I wanted to check my email before a 9 a.m. meeting, so I was booking it to the office. Like most Washingtonians, I was scooting up the escalator at a brisk clip and dodging the odd person standing on the left. Since it’s cold outside, I usually commute in my black Uggs. They may not be pretty, but they’re comfortable and warm. (And not as ugly as Crocs.)

Near the top, my Ugg got caught on the step and down I went on all fours. People were nice and helped me up. Embarrassed, I pulled myself together, grabbed the ubiquitous black handbag that all women in DC carry and checked to see if my jeans were bloodied or torn. Ignoring the pain in both my knees, I plowed through the turnstile thinking, “A, no one ever needs to know about that.”

It wasn’t until 3 p.m. that I realized my cell phone was gone. I looked around my cube. It wasn’t there.

I emptied the entire contents of the ubiquitous black handbag. Umbrella, wallet, checkbook, make-up, hairbrush, static cling spray, first aid kit, dayplanner, notepad, pens, iPod, keys, scarf, gloves, lip gloss, breath mints, book and journal. No cell phone. I was set for everything except calling people.

I sat there confused for a few minutes since I distinctly remember putting my cell phone in my bag that morning.

I called my cell phone. No Rocky Top played.

The roommate was taking a sick day, so I IMed her. She called my cell phone. No Rocky Top. She searched the apartment. No cell phone.

“Damn.” I thought. I really like that cell phone.

The roommate suggested that I go through my bag again. After all, she’s seen how big it is.

Once again: umbrella, wallet, checkbook, make-up, hairbrush, static cling spray, first aid kit, dayplanner, notepad, pens, iPod, keys, scarf, gloves, lip gloss, breathe mints, book and journal.

Again, no cell phone.

“!$#@”

Mentally retracing my steps, I realized that the phone must have fallen out of my bag when I tumbled on the escalator. A cell phone dropped in the Metro during morning rush hour was going to be long gone.

One of the craziest afternoons ever then proceeded, and I stayed at work until 8 p.m. By the time I arrived home an hour later, I was exhausted, frustrated and in pain. My knees were swollen and bruised, my bad wrist ached, and it hurt to walk.

At that moment, I just wanted to call someone and cry. The combination of exhaustion, frustration and pain do that to you. I pulled out our old-fashioned land line and realized something. I had no phone numbers. I haven’t memorized a phone number since I first got a cell phone at 17. Nearly a decade has passed since I was required to remember one.

“Damn,” I thought again.

A few numbers did stick out. Aside from my parents current number and the number at their old house, I had McGuyver Dad’s old office number, Beka’s parents and LF’s parents. I opted for home and left a tearful message on their answering machine. Sometimes you just need to cry to someone, even if that someone is a machine.

Maven Mom called back a little while later. Apparently she had flashbacks to fifth grade when I came home from school crying everyday. Fifth grade really sucked…

She cheered me up and helped sort through the Verizon account. The prospect of a new gadget was making me happy. Saturday, I scoped out the cell phones and Verizon and did some online research. This afternoon, I decided on a new LG enV. It had a 2 megapixel camera, a full keyboard and the most important feature–it came in orange. Between an upgrade credit on the account and in-store sale, I got the phone, bluetooth headset and car charger for only $60. I wasn’t happy about spending $60 outside of my budget but losing one cell phone in 10 years isn’t a bad track record.

Two lessons here:
1) Back up your cell phone numbers and memorize the important ones. I went from about 200 numbers to six. If you know me in the real world, please shoot me an email or Facebook message with your number.
2) Don’t run up escalators in Uggs, especially during rush hour. Checking my email before work wasn’t worth losing my cell phone.

The good news is that I have a shiny orange cell phone that matches my Rocky Top ringtone.

Without a doubt, the two ugliest types of shoes in recent years have been Uggs and Crocs.*

However, both are seasonal shoes. While there are only three reasons to wear Crocs, the holes in some types would make them rather unpleasant in the winter. Thank goodness the tacky celebrity phase of wearing Uggs in the summer with short skirts is over. Uggs are great shoes in the winter, but only the cold weather justifies their existence.

What would happen if Mr. Croc met Ms. Ugg, and they decided to get hitched?

Unfortunately, this is probably the result of their union.

*In full disclosure, I confess to owning a pair of Uggs, which are my winter commuting shoes, and sadly a pair of Crocs.