And We All Fall Down. Especially Me. All The Time.
Friend of Banshee, staring in horror at my flip-flops: You have impossibly small feet.
Me: Yeah, I’ve noticed. Being that they’re attached to my legs and all.
FOB: How tall are you, anyway?
Me: Eh, about 5’7.
FOB: And what size are your freakish feet?
Me: It depends. 5 1/2? 6? Definitely not bigger than a 6.
FOB: How the hell do you STAND? Those feet are too small. The math doesn’t add up.
Me: How do I STAND? Have we MET? I don’t stand, dorko. I fall down ALL THE TIME. I can be standing still and then BOOM! I’m on the floor. Happens all the time.
FOB: You have the feet of a small child. Also your second toe is bigger than your big toe. You have tiny little square feet. You should keep those things covered. No one wants to see that shit.
Me: Dude, you’re lucky I wear shoes at ALL. If I had it my way, I’d be barefoot all the time. And my feet are ADORABLE, thank you very much. Look at them. Look! How cute are my feet? SO CUTE.
FOB: I think I’m going to vomit.
Me: I think you have the opposite of a foot fetish. Is there a word for that?
FOB: I don’t know, but I DO know there’s a word for your feet.
Me: And that would be?
Me: Why are you made of hate and angry bees?
FOB: Why don’t you ever wear shoes? What are you, some kind of dirty hippie?
Me: I feel the world needs to share in the cuteness of my tiny little feet. I’m a GIVER like that.
FOB: You just fell down.
Me: It’s a curse of the adorable-footed.
FOB: I have no idea why I associate myself with you. No idea whatsoever.
Me: It’s probably my feet.