Sock Theory

I hate socks. Okay, maybe it's not so much socks that suck, but the tediousness of matching up 20 zillion pairs, all in different styles, of white socks. And no, these are not my socks, but Jeremy's socks. For years, I have refused to wear socks--that's how much I despise, loathe, detest matching up socks. However, given our new heating scenario (aka no central heat), I, sadly, have had to do away with the no sock usage to keep my feet from becoming something akin to frozen fish sticks (yes, I am admitting that, even while cold, my feet can be a tiny bit smelly. I don't know why, but they still sweat in my shoes).

Therefore, I have developed my own sock theory, a theory I believe would make millions of people incredibly happy if they also were to adopt it. Despite what Jeremy says about my socks, the theory is brilliant (as are the socks). Without further ado, I will impart the incredible wisdom and brilliance of my sock theory.

1. Never Buy White Socks
White socks are bad. Everyone should know this by now anyway. Which socks always disappear when you do laundry? White socks. I think there is a covert white sock convention somewhere. They're all sitting around drinking margaritas on the beach trying to get a tan. Can you blame them? They are white and pasty all the time. Well, at least until someone walks outside through dirt in them (not me. I'd never steal a pair of Jeremy's socks because I had none of my own, then wander outside to dump garbage in the bin). I think what they are secretly looking for is a little bit of color, no matter if it is dirt, because once dirty, no amount of bleach is going to get them clean. Trust me. I know. I'm now up to about half a jug of bleach per load of white laundry, and they still come out stained.

2. Buy the Ugliest Socks You Can Find
Let's face it. Socks are boring. (And yes, I'm writing a whole blog about socks--I suppose that might say something about me. Based upon my own Freudian analysis of myself, I must dislike . . . hmmm. No wonder I think Freud is overrated. Could also explain why no one's delved into a psychoanalytic sock theory.) Everyone buys the same types of socks. If they're not white, they're tan, brown, dark blue, or black. Boring! I don't think seasonal depression is based on the actual changing of the seasons, but rather the fact that people are stuck, for umpteen months, staring at the horribly bland and dreary socks they wear. If you want to be in a good mood, you must buy the ugliest socks you can find. This means no monotone socks! Your socks must have not only a wide variety of colors that should never go together, but also a wide variety of patterns. Stripes, polka dots, diamonds, little pictures--you get the idea. There is nothing that can brighten a mood faster than looking down at your feet and catching a glimpse of chartreuse, fuschia, and lemon yellow spots leaping off a purple background.

Not only will it cheer you up, but also anyone who sees the socks can't help but comment on them. You don't know how many times I have seen Jeremy stop, look at my feet, and ask what the hell I'm wearing. And this from a man who doesn't even like feet (especially when I purposefully touch him with my feet--never seen anyone jerk away so fast in my life! Okay, so maybe that falls into another blog topic of "Spousal Torture: Things that Annoy Him/Her that Amuse the Crap Out of You"). My current favorites are a striped pair: purple, pink, orange, and white stripes. Are they ugly? Well, they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Besides, I have no problem finding my matches in the laundry.

3. The Fuzzier the Better
Find the thickest, fuzziest, ugliest socks you can. This brings about the optimum pleasure for all. First, for you, the softer and fuzzier, the better they feel on your feet. It's sort of like walking around on a trampoline. There's just a certain bounce to your step, partially from the added thickness and partially for the dazzling color variety they come in.

A few precautions though, if you are buying your first pairs of thick, fuzzy socks. These are things I have learned from personal experience, so I am the expert. Make sure your socks don't have those hospital track things on the bottom. While they might seem like a good idea--after all, they're supposed to keep you from sliding on slick floors--they aren't. Every time you walk, you feel the little bumps under your feet, and it makes you feel like you have something stuck in your sock that you need to dig out. Unfortunately, no amount of tearing fully removes these little bumps, which, in turn, renders the socks virtually unuseable (unless you want some interesting sock puppets). Besides, what's the fun of a slick floor if you can't just slide wherever you want to go?

The next precaution? Make sure the fuzzies on the socks don't easily come off. This just makes more work than you really want and detracts from the pleasure. Instead of happily contemplating your socks, you instead find yourself watching little blobs of fuzz float around the house. Then the cat gets in on the fun. Thirteen pounds of cat at a 10 mile per hour speed chasing an endless amount of fuzzies across hardwood floor, followed by a 65 pound dog who thinks the cat might have found something exciting (Audrey never learns) makes for a lot of noise and activity breaking into your peaceful solitude. On top of that, when you wash them, the fuzzies cling, or maybe a better word is fuse themselves, to every other piece of laundry in the load. You might be thinking, "Well, obviously, they would all end up in the lint trap eventually." Don't think it. You are wrong. They never end up in the lint trap. There is some sort of magnetic force that repells brilliantly colored fuzzies from the lint trap and sends them spinning into any piece of clothing that contains the exact opposite colors of the fuzzies.

Finally, a third precaution--make sure your fuzzy socks aren't made of the really loopy strings. Yes, these are still warm, thick, and contain a brilliant kaleidoscope of wonderfully contrasting colors, just like all the other socks. However, whenever you walk over something very rough, at least one of the loopy strings is going to get stuck on whatever is sticking out (tiny piece of wood sticking up from the floor, pen on a chair, hinge on the edge of the door . . .). Just as soon as it gets stuck, the loopy strings in the sock start unraveling. Then, oh look! Here comes the cat. Followed by the dog. Followed by the other dog. . .

In other words, what I'm saying is that much thought and care must go into your selection of fuzzy socks. Can you just look at a pair with smiley faces on a hot pink background and snatch them up? NO! You must think about the consequences. Okay, so in some cases, you just have to weigh the consequences over the beauty of the pattern. Sometimes, the socks are just not going to be pratical, and the pattern will win. I can't be a Nazi about this when I know that if I found the above described socks, no matter how much fuzz or how many strings they would bleed, I would be taking them home.

4. Holiday Socks: The Dos and Don'ts
Holiday socks are a must! There is nothing tackier -- er, more beautiful-- than holiday socks. We all get holiday socks. We have a stash of holiday socks. They pile up. We can't get rid of them because they are new socks, and they were a gift. We can't regift them because, well, they're holiday socks. I realize only the truly brave can do this, but you must embrace the holiday sock! There is no sock that sends quite the same message as the holiday sock (get back to me later on what that message actually is). They are distinctive, always proudly displaying a unique repeating picture (you know, unique--pumpkins, Christmas Trees, hearts, Easter bunnies. . .). In order to completely immerse yourself, completely absorb the sock theory, you must wear holiday socks!

However, there is only one way you can be "cool," while wearing holiday socks. You can NEVER, and I repeat NEVER (notice the emphasis here. If you take one sock theory away from this radically revolutionary post, it must be this one), wear holiday socks for their correct holiday. Halloween socks for Valentine's Day? Yes! Christmas socks for the 4th of July? Yes! St. Patrick's Day socks for Thanksgiving? Yes! Easter socks for Easter? Noooo! That would be a travesty that would make you irremediably unchic. This is the worst sock sin you could ever commit! You simply cannot wear a holiday sock for its appropriate holiday!

5. Do Not Match
Last but not least, your socks should never match the clothes you are wearing. Coordinating an outfit is perfectly fine. Coordinating your socks to that outfit just puts you right back in the boring category. The reason for this is that you've now deemphasized your socks. They are no longer important, so who's going to bother looking at them? I know I wouldn't bother. Why is it so important not to match? Think of all the cheer, entertainment, and conversation you're adding to both your life and others' lives through your socks. What happens to all that when your socks match, and no one's looking at them? Gone! All gone! You might as well have just bought those monotonous, white socks. You're right back at square one, which obviously also makes you uncool again. So, if you're wearing purple, make sure your socks contain no purple! If you're wearing black . . . you get the idea.

Concluding Remarks
I know what you're thinking now. The sock theory is revolutionary! If you follow, it will change your life! You will gain wealth. You'd be amazed at how cheap ugly socks are. You will gain happiness. Never again will you desperate search through 50 white socks to find that one match. Never again will you look at your feet and feel depressed. You will gain companionship and conversation. Every time you wear a pair, someone is bound to talk to you. You will gain self confidence and assertiveness. What else could you gain after continually having your socks made fun of? Friends will envy you for your keen and edgy fashion sense. The benefits are innumerable!

Now that I've outlined the sock theory, it's up to you to take control of your life! Apply the sock theory, and, just like me, you'll--well, you'll at least have warmer feet!