The difference between a shirt and a dress

I've noticed an epidemic lately of people who can't tell the difference between a shirt and a dress. One was intended to be worn with pants and looks very strange without them. You can put on LV spiked platforms or knee-high boots all you want, but it won't change the fact that everywhere you go, people will look at you and think "she forgot to put on her pants!"

I'd like to give a class called "this is a dress, this is a shirt." We could follow it up with "these are shorts and those are underwear." People who graduate, could then move on to "the difference between a purse and a suitcase" and "reasons not to mix animal prints."

On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have people who dress like the year they graduated from high school. You know these people--they still have perms, or claw bangs, or crewcuts. They bought a tie for their college graduation and they still wear it even though it is knit. They need the class "it is no longer 1983" and "scrunchies were not meant for adults."

Fashion is a beautiful and a fleeting thing. I'm sure I have committed many fashion crimes in my past (I recall bubblegum beads and black tights with red shoes.) But if you want to be trendy, you have to keep up with the trends. That is the whole point.

Trends that I love--embellished shoes. Who knew shoes could be jewelry? I also love chiffon, but it should have an age limit of around 29. Big rings worn on your index finger. My grandmother did this and she was impossibly chic. So I recently bought some and I love them. I don't care if it's not trendy. This is where I beat my own jewelry lined path.

Who needs another blog?

Apparently, I do. I hate my job. (Okay, I know. At least I have one. But I'm stuck in a joke of an office like the one in Office Space. I've started hoarding staplers. I have four so far.) Since many of my friends know who I work for, I can't complain about my horrible job overtly. So I've decided to do so obliquely. I will whine and gripe about my horrible job by talking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with it. See if you can figure it all out.

Why "The Beaten Path?" Because in my twenties, I thought I would live a life extraordinary and different. I didn't. My life is very pedestrian, and aside from the crappy job, I quite like it. I would like to celebrate the ordinary things that make life worthwhile, like Cheetos and shoes.

So there you have it--complaining and celebrating. What could be more normal than that? Not the road less traveled, but a worthwhile path nonetheless.

Who will read this blog? Well, my family probably, my friends I hope, and maybe other people who appreciate the humor in absurdity and can relate to feeling suffocated by your cubicle.

Who should not read this blog? People who go to a hotel to buy groceries, or think the DMV is where you get a marriage license, or who believe it's OK to call the police if your new dress makes you look fat--you people should stop reading right now because I'm going to complain about you a LOT.