by David Lurvey
Yesterday, Sophomore Jessica H* said she has no plan to throw out her shoes, despite their loss of functionality as footwear and utter lack of aesthetic value.
The investigation into this matter began last week when her roommate, Eva Braun*, told a friend over lunch, “I swear to God if she doesn’t get rid of those [expletive] things one day she’ll come home and find her shoes in worse shape than Steve Buscemi at the end of Fargo.”
“Oh, I’m sure she was just joking,” said Jessica during an obvious attempt to choke back tears. “Sometimes she doesn’t get to make enough Coen brothers jokes and sort of lashes out. You know how those Park kids are.” The shoes were cradled in her lap and her hands defensively laid over them. “She just doesn’t know their full story.”
According to Jessica, the shoes date back to “a tough time” in early 2008 where “[she] really just didn’t know who [she] was.”
“Sometimes Jessica would complain for hours about how every time she wore a low cut blouse and short shorts she would get hit on,” a close high school friend of hers told Buzzsaw, “she would just get so confused about how to fix the problem.” Jessica’s torment lasted for an eternity, “at least a month” agree several friends. “And then it just sort of happened that I said to her, ‘Why don’t you try out these Converses I just bought?’ And the rest was history.”
By now, the shoes are tattered with holes punched in their paper-thin canvas. The body is lime green and covered in Sharpie scribbles that range from incoherent inside jokes to a vast array of emoticons. “This one says ‘Harriet you’re my bitch!!! <3,’” Jessica squealed while pointing to a black smudge on the right sneaker, “which is funny because my name isn’t Harriet and because she could have just drawn a heart instead of a less than three! You need to meet my old friends, they are so weird.”
According to Eva, sometimes Jessica will stay up late squinting at the shoes and giggling. “She’ll be all like ‘Oh, you have to read this one. Chad wrote it when we were still going out before he was a jerk, but he was so funny. All it says is Peanut Butter! Get it? Well, actually you sort of need to know Chad to get that one.’”
When Jessica is not cuddling with the sneakers, they reside on the top shelf of her desk on prominent display. “They really tie the room together,” she says in a serious voice before exploding into a giggle. “Get it? Sometimes I say ‘They really bring soul to the room, even though they don’t have soles!’ It cracks up my guests all the time.”
“They laugh because it would be awkward if they didn’t,” Eva theorizes.
When asked what the shoes show about herself, Jessica launched into an analysis of herself so long that even a small fraction would be too lengthy to print here. Some observations she made included that she “is such a geek,” “likes to look good,” “sometimes likes to dress really comfy and not care what anyone else thinks,” and “has a unique sense of style.”
Despite her hatred of the footwear, Eva is hopeful for the future. “I don’t see them being a problem much longer,” she says, looking downward and trying to hide her smile. “And by much longer I mean three weeks from now when Jessica is away on Thanksgiving break.”
*Names have been changed
Patrick Morey is freshman English major who thinks duct-tape would be an easy fix. Email him at pmorey1[at]ithaca.edu.