As Crispin relaxed, partaking in postprandial cognac and cigars with Lords Effingham and Solsbury, he decided now was the perfect moment to exhibit the latest in footwear fetishes.
Having absolutely no confidence in the antiseptic spray, she hoped that the extra heavy-duty hazmat socks would protect her.
Even as she complained about how ugly they were (how could a sport–if it was one–be built around such hideously tacky shoes?), not one of us doubted that we were celebrating her 40th at BowlRight Lanes largely because she loved the way she looked in those bowling shoes.
“This is me winning” she thought right before she bowled a gutter.
He was the kind of charming, witty guy who could actually pull off wearing bowling shoes to a dance – but the sartorial splendor of his pants-in-socks look was just too much for her to bear.
Bowling shoes and antiseptic spray reminded him of his first few awkward, sweaty palmed dates with his first wife, it’s why he always looked so unhappy when his kids suggested midnight bowling for Friday Fun Nights.
He stared at his shoes, thinking how ironic it was that they matched his mood because Justin couldn’t decide if he was hot or cold towards Wendy, but he knew either way, he’d get to third base tonight.
Bowling shoes come only in “theft deterrent” color schemes.
Yes, she realized, as she looked down at her feet halfway through ballet class, she was totally preoccupied with thoughts of him … and that was okay.
The special torture of bowling shoes only added to Phil’s distress of the faculty bowling afternoon, yet he would do anything to be excused from the torture of the grading committee meeting.
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