hello & squeaky shoes

For a long time now, a lot of you have been telling me to publish the crap that I write. I just smile and say "maybe someday." Well, let's call this a first step. I'm still not feeling motivated enough to work hard for the rejection of a publishing attempt, and this seems like a reasonable compromise. You can read it like you always did, but so can anyone else who is foolish enough to stumble upon it, completely by accident, most likely while looking for porn. I don't have too much to tell you about right now, but I can tell you yet another shoe story.

A couple of weeks ago I bought a pair of white Ralph Lauren Polo sneakers. They were $20, and struck me as the perfect shoe for my everyday walks to and from the subway station. I was sick of walking in heels, and flip-flops proved extremely treacherous in rainy weather--once they get wet they refuse to stay on my feet. So the new sneakers have been doing the trick for about two weeks now, and while a bright white new shoe isn't always the best compliment for my outfit, I don't friggin' care. My feet are comfortable and I don't fall in the holes of subway grates.

So this morning I left the house to find--big surprise--rain. I opened my umbrella and headed west. I crossed the street, and as I strolled down the sidewalk I started to notice a strange sound occurring at regular intervals behind me. It sounded something like the labored panting of a french bulldog, so I was surprised to turn around and see nothing. No one was near me. So by process of elimination, I knew the funny noise was coming from me.

I wasn't aware of any intenstinal problems I might have had from my dinner of popcorn and a hershey bar (I haven't been food shopping in a while), so after a bit of thought, I decided the noise was coming from my left foot. I was urked to realize it was the sound of air pushing through water, because it meant somewhere on my new shoe there was a hole.

I continued walking, trying all sorts of adjustments to my footfall. I put the weight on the outside of my foot, then the inside, then tried landing on just my toe. But I could not control the squishy wet fart noise coming from my heel. I avoided puddles, but before long, my suspicions were confirmed when a cool sense of wetness overcame my sock and heel.

Eventually I got to the subway where I stood still (and quiet) before charging with the masses at 33rd St. I went up the stairs, bought my $1 muffin from the morning vendor, crossed the street, and went up to my desk. I took off the shoe to find that all sorts of problems and wetness had ensued, and the shoe was actually beginning to disintegrate.

I'm not quite sure what to do about this, if anything. I mean, I bought the damn shoes particularly to replace flip-flops in raining weather. I suppose I could try to return them, but I don't know if that'll fly with whatever 19-year-old sales girl is just working for another week to save money before school starts (although, usually if I compliment their acrylic nails, they are much nicer to me, and may actually make eye contact while ringing up my purchase and talking on their cell phones). Really I expected more from Ralph Lauren, and I'm thinking about calling him directly. I saw him on Friends once, and he seemed like a nice guy. Maybe he'll help me.

In the end, I've just laid the sock out so it will dry before quitting time. Then I can have squishy wet shoe farts all the way home, and get ready to do it again tomorrow.