Self, this is probably going to be hard to hear, but it needs to be said. I am your friend and I care about you, so please hear me out.
Self, you need to stop wearing your old work boots with your slacks at work.
I know, I know, you love your old work boots, and they're sooo comfy and your feet are soooo far away that, really, it's nothing but another unnecessary inconvenience in your life, but it's just the way it is.
No. No, please don't - please don't cry. I hate it when you cry. Well, yes, you do cry an awful lot, but that doesn't mean that I hate you, it just means that I frequently feel confused and agitated when I'm around you.
No, we're talking about your issues today. Specifically, your poor fashion sense. Quit changing the subject.
Now that is complete horse puckey, what on earth could possibly happen to your toes while sitting at your computer that would necessitate wearing CSA approved footwear? And don't you spend, like, the GDP of a small nation on pedicures every year? Why not show off those foxy tootsies a little?
Self, I hear what you're saying, but you really need to listen to me. Maybe it was endearing at one point in time back when you were a real biologist, but now... well, now it's just weird. You work at a desk. You wear mascara every day. Why can't you just change into one of the forty pairs of shoes you have hiding in your office?
Oh. Sorry. I didn't realize he didn't know you owned that many shoes. What do you do, buy them and smuggle them to work in your backpack?
Huh. Well, I guess that's one way to go about it.
But back to the boots. They don't even match with anything. No, it's not part of their charm, it's part of their, like, not-charm. They are the Anticharm. Plus, they smell. Oh yes they do! I dare you to smell them. Smell them! See? I told you so.
So are you with me now? Thaaaat's a good girl. Step away from the boots. It's okay, they've had a good life and they're going to a better place now. Sure, we can bury them in the back yard, sweetie, just as soon as the soil thaws a bit in the spring. We'll have a little memorial service, it'll be real nice. No, they'll be alright to sit over winter - I doubt they could get much stinkier.