Feet Fetishists

Twice.  In a 24 hour period.  Twice my feet were the object of sexual deviance.

First:  I went to a bar.  Often these stories start like this.  I went to see an old-timey americana band.  Quite good.  The Hot Seats as well as Pokey LaFarge and The South City Three.  Innocent enough endeavor.  As I'm standing outside, the gentleman taking the money says, "You have pretty toes.  Are you married?"

weird.

but not as weird as

Second.  Yesterday evening.  Metro.  A miniature Spike Jones walks up. with the personality of Karl Childers or David Blaine. and the voice of Ben Stein.  He asks how I am.  I say, Fine, how are you?  He says good.  He looks away, I look away.  I'm already weirded out by this fellow.  He says, "Are those some sort of hiking sandals?"  I say, "They're pretty tough."  He says, "What size are they?"  I laugh nervously and reply, "Large".  He says, "About a 9 or a 10".  another nervous laugh.  I'm starting to think he wants to try my shoes on.
He says, dead-pan, completely seriously, very David Blaine-esque "Will you wiggle your toes for me?"  ...   ...   ...   ... yeah.  I just said, "I don't think I need to do that."

WHAT?!?!

gross.


i got the first volume of The Autobiography of Mark Twain.  It's huge.

i'm spending my weekend volunteering with an organization battling Modern Slavery, a shift at the Green festival, and helping to organize a volunteer appreciation party for a local neighborhood.  yeah, i'm busy.  oh yeah, i have an interview for a part time job somewhere in there too.

someone come clean my room before andy and kristin get here...