Who are you?
Tatiana Blue, the world’s greatest shoe thief extraordinaire and, not to blow my own horn but, sexy as fuck too. Dreadlock rocking, over 60, 000 pairs of shoes stolen, all round chick ya chick wants to lick… yeah that’s me!
Where did you come from?
What am I, a fucking alien? I’m from Stratford, east London. Born and raised. Technically I’m a figment of Mr Oh’s imagination but I live in Stratford. I’d rather not say where exactly because, well, you never know when Interpol is scanning blogs again.
Why do you steal shoes?
If you wanna know go and ask that prick Marcus why I steal shoes. You know that fucking ass fucking, fuck face of a human piece of shit…
Sorry ’bout that… guess he still makes me angry after all this time. Even after seeing him again, I still wanted to tie him down, pour dry ice on his skin then go over him with some sandpaper.
Okay, back to the question…. why do I steal shoes? Well why not. Why wouldn’t I? If I can do it and get away with it, why the fuck not?
Over 60, 000 pairs of shoes stolen and never been arrested once!
That’s why I steal shoes… because I can. And I’m fucking the best at it.
Heheheeee… Who’s Marcus? What a piss taking question. You see I just almost fucking flipped out and then you ask me about him again.
We all know who Marcus is. If you read the book, you know who he is. He’s a prick is who he fucking is. Grade A fuck muncher. From what I read in the book, he should be arrested too. What he did to that chick must’ve broken a law or two.
But ya know what, fuck Marcus.
If you’re reading this Marcus, fuck you forever until you die!
That’s who Marcus is!
Next question… I’m not even gonna bother…
Why not get a real job?
Like what? Security manager… done that already. Tesco? Done it… Foot Locker… done it… office job… done it… I’m done doing it.
I get to wake up and it’s about nothing but shoes. All day everyday.
If I don’t wanna get up and fly to Paris to pick up a few pairs of Louboutins then I stay in bed smoking weed and watching Love and Hip Hop or Real Househusbands of Hollywood. Because I can.
If you’re wondering how I manage to sustain myself by stealing shoes, well let’s just say there are ways of selling those extra pairs I pick up.
You’re job may take you on the central line, DLR, maybe even a bus but mine takes me to Las Vegas, Indonesia, New York, Milan, Bulgaria, L.A.
I am literally internationally known… and I love it.
Because I’m seriously that good at what I do. Think of Colombiana, but thicker with dreadlocks and that’s me.
Don’t you feel guilty about stealing?
Okay… erm… Don’t you get bored of stealing shoes?
Ask any woman if she gets bored of high heels and expect the ‘stupid question’ face looking right back at cha…
What does the future hold for a shoe thief?
More shoes more shoes more shoes… *stupid question face here*
I’ve found out recently that after I expressly told him not to write about me anymore, Mr Oh went and researched my very first job and the fucker decided to write about it. But he’s doing a good job so far. I’m definitely gonna “edit” it though. And then, after that, I’m going to get my Russell baby back.
*stupid question face*
You know damn well who he is so don’t play dumb. He’s the sexy chocolate that changed my life.
What do you plan to do with all the shoes you’ve stolen?
Keep ’em. These are some stupid ass questions.
Where do you keep them all? Your shoes.
Two flats, four apartments and two houses. London, Belgium, Jamaica, New York, Manchester and just bought a new house in the Hamptons. Huge basement. Purrrrfect.
Where can people find you?
Well really if a thief is good enough then you won’t find ’em. But unfortunately because Mr Oh wanted to dry snitch on my life in a story called FootSoles and PantyHoes in his book, now I’m immortalized in some shit.
I’m smarter now though… but seriously no more writing about me.
I’ll see what I can do
No you’re gonna do as your told and not write about me any more, do you hear me?
Erm, there’s no way in hell your gonna come in my blog and start talking shit to…
You know me Mr Oh so you know the types of things I could do to you, especially as that tranquilizer dart starts to take effect.
Did you just… Zzzzzzzz…
Thanks for the interview Mr Oh… we’ll do this again sometime when your mouth and your attitude doesnt get you fucked up!