This weekend, I was at the bowling alley with some of my softball team. When you rent bowling shoes from the alley, you usually give them one or both of your shoes so you don't walk away with their rentals. So I graciously handed over my beloved Converse.

But upon returning to the counter at the end of the night, a terrible thing happened. As the guy behind the counter went to retrieve my shoes, he couldn't find them, because surely the black Converse with the pink tongue certainly couldn't be mine.

Sheepishly, he holds up one of my shoes. "uh....are these yours?" he oppressively asked.

"Yup" I replied, and walked away.

The nerve of him...