All Star

Growing up, we had three rules about Christmas and birthdays. Anything we asked for, we automatically did not receive (gift giving was from the heart, and not about the actual gift itself), gifts were for fun (my mother was adamant that we never receive anything we needed), and by no means were we ever to even entertain any thoughts of returning or exchanging said gifts.

For my recent big 30, I received one of my favorite gifts of all times. Forget the fact that they happen to be Chuck Taylor's (there obviously isn't a cooler shoe), that I happen to share the name (hours of torment on the playground, I assure you), or that they came from my favorite website (www.vivre.com). No, their glory lies in the fact that they are purely ridiculous, silly in the way they shine, look damn good with my new pair of Odyn Jeans, and, quite simply, make me smile every time I look down at them.