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So I go in today to get my Birkenstocks repaired.

Now, I am not good to shoes. I do not love shoes as many women do. Having left Minnesota, I now wear hiking sandals year-round, often with offensively bright and fluffy socks, because...well...I can. I do not oil or waterproof or fireproof or polish or cuddle or do any of the other things that one is supposed to do to one's shoes to make them happy. I just wear them until they disintegrate off my feet.

But Birks are pretty spendy, and they're very repairable, so I went in to the shoe repair place locally, sandals in hand.

The gentleman roaming the aisles came up to me, opened his mouth to say something, spotted my shoes, and said, in deeply Southern tones of horror, "Honey, did you take them shoes off a daid person?"


He took the shoes away--I had obviously proved myself untrustworthy with footwear--and flipped them over to eye what had once, long ago, been tread, and gasped. "One who walked themself to dayth?"

I actually looked at the shoes. Hmm, yeah, in retrospect, they did look pretty beat up...

"Were you in prison and these was the only shoes they gave you?"

"Yes," I said wearily, resigning myself, "I've been doin' time. In Birkenstocks."

He shook his head, charged me a lot of money, and handed me a ticket. I left, feeling partly as if I had walked into a cathedral carrying a cruicifed hamster, but mostly just amused.

There's more wrong with the South than I could enumerate in a month of Sundays, but it does have its moments.

you realize you have just scandalized all the good church goin' folks with images of a sad sad hamster with a wee tiny crown of thorns and big pleading sad eyes stapled to a cross made of popsicle sticks, don't you??

This probably isn't the time to mention that a friend of mine has "The Last Temptaion of Mr. Wiggles" in a sketchbook somewhere, is it?

I must admit that I've never met a guy like that, but the bit about the crucified hamster was rather humorous.

And when my brain wakes up, I'll think that it was mean to the hamster, but then wonder what the hamster's coloring was. For no apparent reason.


I pound my Birkies to death as well.
I'm lining up to find a new pair of Annapolis soon.

I'm amused. I wear my Birkenstocks to death too...

Oh thank you thank you thank you


are these the shoes you were wearing when you biffed through san diego's mission bay?

I love meeting eccentric funny people. Eccentric funny people with interesting accents are even better!

What are you doing on this blog?


I do the same thing to shoes. X)

Traditionally the British believe that wearing socks inside sandals is a solely British tradition.

It's also an Arizona thing. I'd been meaning to buy a pair of real shoes for the winter, but never got around to it.

My mom has Birkenstocks, horrible pink Birkenstocks.
Oh the horror...

And I do the same to my boots.
I buy a new pair every two years and wear them every single day. Anytime I'm at Amsterdam central station I have them polished by this guy who can ressurect shoes from the dead for only 5 bucks.
Fuck the weed and whores, the shoeshine man is a must-visit in Amsterdam.

You might be a redneck if the churches in your town are closed at night but the auto parts stores are open 24 hours.


Them Southern shoe repair guys tell it like it is. :D

Just from the description of the guy, I know exactly where you went. :)

They repaired my birks for years and we still bring things down for them to work on. They're awesome.

They used to be even crazier, though, when the work space in the back (and the whole store) was half as wide as it is now and there was almost no ventilation.

Ursula, we repair birkenstocks at the store I work in (when I'm not in college) and I promise you they probably come in much worse than yours. I've seen things that don't even resemble shoes, which aren't fun to repair by the way.

There are actually places around here that repair shoes?

That's just amazing!