I met someone for lunch today - two someones - and we started in on girl talk and shoes. (This was weird to begin with, because I never do that, but Someone #1 liked my shoes, commented on them, and I apparently wear the same size shoe that she does.)
You're expecting the rest of the sentence to end like this:
"...I know a great charity."
"I'll totally take them off your hands."
But it ended like this:
"Well...let me tell you when we're seated and there aren't so many people around."
It turns out that Someone #1 has a friend supporting a partner who is disabled. She works full-time but has a totally anonymous, totally legal business...modeling shoes. In photos for foot fetishists. People actually pay this person quite a lot of money simply to take pictures of her feet in certain pairs of shoes and send them the pictures.
Clearly I'm in the wrong line of work.
I think this person must also wear the same size shoe that I do, but I was too surprised to actually know someone who has a friend that does this to take much in.
And as luck (or perversion) would have it, there was a bag of shoes in my trunk ready to go to Goodwill.
Someone #1 said, "No way! These will be PERFECT! You're supporting a good cause...in a way."
I said, "Just don't tell me what happens to them."
So you know how sometimes I feel like my life is a sitcom? More and more, it seems like it's becoming Portlandia.