Tuesday, February 2, 2010

can I touch your toes?

It was a romantic night. The kind where the moon has swallowed the sky so that whole atmosphere looks like it might implode. But in a beautiful, whimsical way. I'm waiting on my porch and see His car pull up. My blind date whom we shall call Doctor Foot. He gets out of his car and I am actually smitten. He's not a midget. He's not wolf man. He is cute.
He gets closer.
Mmmm. He is cuter than cute. Almost...hot. Dare I think it?
He smiles a knee buckling smile and says "I'm Doctor Foot."
"Hi," I say. Finally a cute one.
We hop in his car. I try to ignore the fact that year old french fries are putrefied on the dashboard.
And the fact that he listens to Ricky Martin.
"Up for bowling?" He gives me a Dean Martin smile. I forget about Ricky Martin.
"Uh huh."
We stop at the alley. He gets out. He's a gentlemen, he comes and opens my door. Okay, two more points. I can look over the mummified fries.
We walk into the alley. Its a little ghetto, what bowling alley isn't? I like living on the other side of the tracks for a change. Until a guy with a missing tooth and belly that bulges like Santa's winks at me from the pool table. Doctor Foot waves at the guy. Oh gosh. Please tell me they're not friends.
Doctor Foot walks over to Pirate Santa. Yep. They are.
We are introduced. Pirate Santa smells like things my innocent nose has never smelled before. "Doctor Foot here will take care of ya!" He slaps my back like I'm a professional hockey player. I cringe and me and Doctor Foot walk to our designated alley.
He turns to me and suddenly drops to my feet. I am a little shocked, but force a smile. He smiles at me and whips out a thick, woolly white sock. "Mind if I slip this on?"
I wouldn't mind...except he has this weird, crazed look in his eye. And he is no longer looking at my face, but my foot. And he's looking at it so passionately I step back. "Uh, that's okay." I reach for the sock.
His smile wilts and he lunges for my ankle, I come down like a sumo wrestler. Instead of asking if I'm okay he just reaches for my foot and strokes it. Yep. That's right. Strokes it.
"You have great feet. I love feet."
Ewe. I want to gag. But I am so shocked from the fall all I can do is gape in horror as he slips the sock on my foot...and then kisses my toes. UGH. I want to barf. When we stand up I fake a headache and say I better get home. He just looks at my feet and shrugs. "Want me to take your socks off?"


  1. ahhh HIlARIOUS!!! Keep these coming I read the aloud to Cody and we both get a good giggle about all the freaks out there!! HAHA talk about no personal boundaries! Too Bad, he seemed perfect, OTHER THAN THAT FOOT FETISH PART! haha

  2. OMG JENNN!!!! Where the MOTHER EFF do these guys COME FROM?!!! And don't diss Ricky Martin man, his songs have moves....unfortunately, this guy didn't have them. Moves, I mean. What he seemed to have aplenty was a bigfat foot fetish. Better luck next time hehe

  3. What... the... heck! You need to do screening tests next time. The Ricky Martin music should have tipped you off!

  4. Thanks for the laugh this Wednesday morning!! ha ha, I feel for you.

  5. oh.em.gee. are you freakin for real?!?!?!!? boys are sick!! barf!! ps i LOVE this blog!! i'm so a fan and i love you forever!! where do you find these bomb stories!!

    i heart you girlfriend!!

  6. haha...yes...this is ALL for real lol. Tragic right?