These Boots are Made for.....

First, we need to link you to some theme music…..Boots (check out the boots in the video).

The initial shot was on the fly this afternoon at my office. The weather was a challenge, a cold soaking rain, but Mistress stopped by for some worship before she headed to a dinner engagement. I made sure I got the “one boot on, one boot off” shot to share with you.

Then there is this lovely boot shot from our  down river blog colleague, Aisha. She has a great story that goes with it, and here is the link.  I do find the laces appealing.

Our Southern correspondent, Donna, sent us some photos she selected as part of our boot week extavaganza, which are definitely enticing. Here’s one of them.

 

And one more shot from her husband Bill. He clearly opts for utility, rather than style. You have to respect that in a man.

Now, as a point of personal privilege, your humble slave will now don his hat as the hard working HR and Risk Manager of UCTMW Enterprises, LLC. (If you did not read yesterday's comments, make sure you scroll back to see the buzz saw of whining from the WC that I stirred up yesterday with my gentle reminders about our sensible corporate procedures here at UCTMW).

I know there has been some push back from our hard (and or not so hard) working Associates about what they perceive as draconian policies designed to cover the corporate ass at the expense of loosey goosey lifestyle choices they choose to make. But let me fill you in on the disturbing facts that gave rise to yesterday’s memorandum.

On Saturday, Mistress shared some concerns she had about our Western Correspondent.

“He says he disconnected his IV’s and announced he was ‘checking out’”.

“Sounds a little crazy, Mistress….a very Hunter Thompson-ish move...and I’m sure some of those nurses felt short changed….”

“Then he says he went home and tried to ride his bike…. He almost crashed….”

“My guess is he forgot to zip up too, Mistress….”, risking a frozen cock relapse.

So you can see the basis for my concern. A correspondent gone rogue, still under the influence of prescription pain killers, trying to peddle off into literary history.

But the story doesn’t end there.

Mistress, Slave, and the two surly teens drove back from Chicago yesterday morning. When we got home, it was my mission to do the grocery shopping for an overly ambitious dinner party we were hosting for my family here commencing at 6 pm.

Mistress was off on a bike ride to care for that lovely body.

But when I got home, what did I hear?

“M called my on my ride, Slave…. And when I tried to answer, well … I had a crash….  I had Trouble getting out of my shoe clips.”

I inspected her carefully for damage. Fortunately, she was wearing her helmet, and there were no obvious scrapes or bruises. I was not looking forward to licking loose gravel from her luscious body.

But can you now understand why, as Director of Risk Management, I was concerned about this gross deterioration in safe workplace habits?

I guess I could just go out and buy some “Key Man (or Woman)” Insurance, sit back and wait to cash in as these two act with increasing reckless disregard for their own health and safety. Or I can try to politely remind then of their obligations to their employer and, secondarily, their loved ones.

'Nuff said.  I will forego quoting from Shylock’s speech in the Merchant of Venice.