One of These Shoes Is Not Like the Other

Exhibit A

Ok...so I am a bowler. I bowl every week in a league. I own a bowling ball and bowling shoes. Tonight was a first due to the fact that I left one shoe at home (as seen in exhibit A). Yes...to you mere bowling mortals it is "only a shoe", but to a bowler, it is a piece of professional bowling equipment. That shoe has been with me through gutter ball to Turkey (which means three strikes in a row...now you can talk like a real bowler) over the past couple of years. So...my dilemma was met with the worst case solution - RENTAL SHOES. So I limped, hopped and whatevered to the counter and exclaimed...."SIZE 12". I slipped on one the pieces of cardboard with laces and dreamed of the hundreds of goobers who manhandled this incredible sports technology. I thought of thousands of memories that occurred with this red and blue slipper and found myself reminiscing of my first days of moonlight bowling with bursts of delight when I bowled for enjoyment instead of being a card carrying member of the American Bowling Congress. So when the throbbing in my foot didn't go away, I decided to meander gingerly back to the counter to exclaim..."SIZE 12 and a HALF". I followed that yelp with "I ONLY NEED ONE", but to no avail. These little evil bowling flip flops travel in pairs and just like the Marines..."LEAVE NO SHOE BEHIND". My bowling partner heckled and pointed. Little kids threw bowling pencils at me. I made a mockery of the sport this evening, my friends. I am so ashamed.


If you must know I had a 170 average tonight...

...and my other shoe was found...in my closet...lonely...abandoned...flustered...and happy to see me.....

...and that picture looks like I have Popeye legs...