Man Toes :(

The family and I just got back from a much-needed vacation in Colorado.  There were so many wonderful things to do and to see.  We saw all kinds of animals at the Denver Zoo, we got to pet stingrays at the Downtown Aquarium, we ate what apparently is the best salt-water taffy in the world in Estes Park (I’m not a big fan), and although my favorite Italian restaurant of all time (Valente’s in Wheatridge) has disappointingly closed, we had a final farewell-to-Colorado meal at Cinzetti’s… which rocked (for Italian).  And with all of these wonderful memories, my mind is clouded with one stinking thing: Man Toes!

You know… Man Toes; guys out in public wearing any number of freakishly designed shoes that allow other people in the near proximity to see their toes.  No person should have to see a man’s toes while out in public… unless said person is at the beach, the pool, or in a public shower.  The toes of a man are a thing to be hidden in socks and shoes and shadows and not to be seen by other human beings.  Sadly, Coloradans do not agree with my philosophy.  In Colorado, the Man Toes were out like bees on lilacs in the spring… except Man Toes don’t make sweet, sweet honey and they don’t smell like lilacs… they stink!

I grew up in Montana, and I currently live in Nebraska.  In the places I have called home, men, for the most part, keep there toes where they belong: covered in tight-fitting shoes all day, festering and sweltering with heat into abominations of stinkiness that are only released either right before a cleansing shower or right before being tucked under the covers of a good night sleep.  The toes of a man are not a thing meant to roam the daylight freely.  The toes of a man are like vampires… hideously deformed creatures of the night that can suck the life out of other humans with a mere glance.  I kid you not; Man Toes suck!

I have a little bit of an aversion to feet.  Feet stink… period.  But, being a guy, I have little problem with a female of relative normalcy wearing sandals or flip-flops while her dainty little toes with painted nails dance about in the daylight.  Normal female toes are,  I hate to admit it, cute.  If one single person out there in my reading audience can show me a picture of one single male toe that belongs to a male over the age of 10 years-old that even somewhat resembles cute… I’ll give you a free one-year subscription to my blog.  Yeah, ok, my blog is free anyways, but when I hit the big-time and can start charging you for the priviledge of reading my drivel… you’ll get a year free.

The average male toe is, to say the least, hideous.  Large strands of hair stand out between grossly deformed knuckles.  Often, the yellow nails growing off the ends of the toes are severely neglected.  I have actually seen instances where the toenail is longer than the toe.  Of course, there are countless instances where the toes themselves are monstrously long.  Seriously, have you ever seen these dudes with the freakishly-long toes?  You expect that, at any moment, these dudes will spring from the sidewalk and thrust their legs up towards the heavens, grasping the nearest tree branch with their elongated toes.  They will then swing above you from the branches, spitting and urinating and defecating and doing all of that nasty stuff that monkeys and other nasty beasts with freakishly-long toes do!  Ohhh… I shudder whenever I see these toes.    Another common Man Toe that is visible on a trip to Colorado is the Preppy Toe.  You know this toe: the soft foot skin, the delicate outline of white tipping the beautifully manicured nail, the trimmed hair resting peacefully between the still-freakishly deformed knuckles… this is a toe to be respected.  This is a toe that the toe’s owner has actually paid another human being to maintain.  Can you imagine being in such a low post in life that you would spend your days with a grotesque man-foot between your hands as you fruitlessly attempted to turn those orangutan-like appendages into something that can be displayed  before the common humanity on a daily basis?  Oh, you poor souls; the tips will never make amends for the damage assaulted upon your psyches.

Ok, so back to stinking Colorado.  All throughout our peaceful vacation, I’m assaulted by Man Toes.  In Estes Park, it’s Man toe after Man Toe, Berkinstocks be DAMNED!  In Denver, flip-flop after flip-flop revealed the inhumanity of the Man Toe.  Finally, I can take no more.  We are finally going to head for home back to Nebraska where men hide their toes the way God intended (in fact, after Eve talked Adam into taking a bite of the forbidden fruit, wasn’t the first thing that Adam did after discovering his nakedness was he throw on a pair of Converse Chuckie T’s?)  Ohhh… but wait!  We have our final lunch before leaving Denver… and it a lunch not to be forgotten.

So we sit down at Cinzetti’s and I got Man Toe on the mind.  But, I’m thinking to myself, ‘we’re in a restaurant… what kind of guy is gonna expose Man Toe to other diners during a meal?’  Apparently, lots of them!  On my right, I got preppy-boy-freak-long-toe in his $125 Birks with his chica with equally long toes and their chowing on the freaking antipasta!  On the left, I got Mr. 65+ on a business lunch with two young whipper-snappers who are trying to sell him the farm while he’s sporting flip-flops and grimy-nails filled with black-sock crud and other unmentionable black things that apparently he’s not willing to pay some high school drop-out to clean out every 3000 miles…  I want to scream!  Thank God for the stomach of iron that He has given me as I proceed to fill my gut with the most unbelievable pizza and eggplant parmigiana that my tongue has ever tasted.  If those infidels had ruined my lunch (… seriously, I’ve cleaned puke off of myself from my son’s gag-reflex during a meal and not missed a bite of Tuna Helper… these geeks and their Man Toes ain’t stopping me from scarfing World-Class pizza…), I would have complained to management… or something.

You know how they have those signs as you enter a restaurant: “No Shirts, No Shoes, No Service!” ?     These signs were created because most people don’t want to see a dude’s back hair or Man Toes!  Seroiusly, if women were walking into Taco Johns with no shoes and no shirts… do you really believe that, even for a second, business wouldn’t be through the stinking roof?  Guys would be standing at the counter ordering six-pack-and-a-pound after six-pack-and-a-pound until the police showed up… which means they’d be standing there FOREVER… ’cause no one would call the police because topless, shoeless women are invading Taco Johns!  Those signs are directed specifically at males.  Men are sucky, unattractive beasts, and many a weak-gutted person would not be able to ingest a meal with certain man-parts available for public viewing (I, for one, am blessed not to be included in this weak-gutted group).  If the sign says “No Shirts, No Shoes, No Service”, take a look at your feet.  If any part of your foot is exposed… and you are a male… you should not enter the premises!  I couldn’t give a crap how comfortable those ugly flip-flops you picked up at Sports Authority are… NO ONE WANTS TO SEE YOUR MAN TOES!

Man… isn’t a vacation supposed to be relaxing?

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