Twinkle Toes

A few weeks before my friend Noel and I went to Denver she asked me if I would get a pedicure with her.  I have never had a pedicure, hell I have never been to a spa, and me not being one to miss out on a new experience, gladly agreed.  We drive to this tiny, semi-health-code-following-nail salon that made me really nervous and sparked a spirited debate between Noel and I about the very real possibility of dying from a poorly performed pedicure, when suddenly this old OLD woman appeared with a plastic bucket filled with dentistry tools and rubber toilet cleaning gloves.  The old OLD woman then proceeded to cut, soak, massage and trim my toenails/feet - all while I sat in a vibrating chair and watched Judge Judy.  Anyway, I decided to get my toenails painted gold - because why not - so the old OLD woman grabs the polish, paints my nails and then, without warning, applies what can only be described as "clear cement" over the gold paint.  Satisfied with her work, the old OLD woman grunted something in a language I have never heard, stood up and disappeared through what I thought was a wall but I guess was a door.  Fast forward to me joining a climbing gym last week.  At a climbing gym you wear climbing shoes that are two sizes too small for your feet but help you climb better because the two-sizes-too-small shoes hurt so damn bad you want to climb the rock wall as fast as possible so you can take the shoes off - at least that's my theory.  So while at the gym I take my tiny painful shoes off to rest my feet then put my shoes back on and climb some more...forgetting about my golden toes covered in clear cement. After several days of this other climbers noticed my aforementioned golden toes and recently I was given a nickname by a few of the fine folks at the gym: Twinkle Toes.  Because every guy wants his gym nickname to be Twinkle Toes.

I have "sock foot" skin in this picture.