Tormented Toes (Seasonal Confusion Pt. 2)

I know I spoke on this subject last week, but it obviously didn’t reach the intended audience. As I sauntered my partially sleeping, partially frozen, entirely unready self into work this morning, I noticed not one, or two or three, but FOUR women walk into work with their toes exposed to the elements. I swear, these women’s feet were mockingly saying “fuck you” to Mother Nature, by more or less sunbathing in flip-flops and not paying any attention to the sub-30 degree New England weather.

Now, if I had to advise these women of anything, it’d be this: cut the shit. I dunno who some of you women think you are. Bracing the elements in a North Face, some jeans, and carefree, unmanicured toes. Your feet have already passed their expiration date, yet you think keeping em in the freezer that is Boston’s morning temperature is gonna what exactly? Do you think the cold weather’s gonna keep those cracked, ashy, eagle’s claw type toes in shape? Nah, get the fuck outta here.

Granted, they’re your feet, so you can do what you please, but are you that type of sadistic estrogen-carrying, perpetrator of seasonal confusion that’s bundled up head to ankle, but leave your phalanges just literally chillin? If you’re that female, I don’t intend to listen to you whine about possibly meeting up with frostbite for a hot date that day.

New England and Mother Nature have this tumultuous relationship that is really colder than a whore’s heart, stronger than a polar bear toe nail, and more rugged and bizarre than a collection of playoff beards. Winter is a time for boots, Thinsulated shoes, rarely sneakers, and never flip-flops. Oh, and if dudes are out there, bracing for the cold in a pair on chancletas? Yeah, I know about 1000 other people that are equally willing and capable of absolutely ruining your day.

Get your head right.

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