Perpetually Peeved

Of feet and flan

There are few things that skeeve me out more than animatronics and the texture of flan.  Other people’s feet is on the top of my list.  I don’t want to see them, I don’t want to smell them and I sure as heck don’t want them touching me.  Ever.  Even if you have socks on.






When I was getting my degree in Crime Scene Evidence Technology (did I not tell y’all about that?), I had to take two fingerprinting classes.  Fingerprinting-I was no problem.  It went over loops, whorls, classification, the basics.  Fingerprinting-II was a whole different story.  Three weeks into the semester we had to fingerprint a corpse.  Please let me tell you, I will NEVER consider donating my body to science.  This corpse was a donation.  She had been in the school freezer for about 8 years before we got our hands on her.  It was the first time I’d ever seen a dead person and I was fine until I saw her perfectly polished pink toenails and realized she at one time had been a living, breathing person and quite possibly someone’s mother.  That, and when I went to grab her hand to fingerprint her, her entire arm came off.  Did I mention I’m never donating my body to science?

Well, as you can imagine, the field of crime scene investigation draws some interesting people.  There are those staunch soon-to-be-police officer types, the ones interested in science until they realize you need to pass an intensive drug and background screening to get a job, and the ones that ask questions that don’t quite sound hypothetical enough.  What are YOU planning, dude?  Add to all this that I was going to school in California – no one normal lives there.  Fingerprinting-II didn’t whittle down enough of the crowd with its decaying momma corpse, so they decided they needed to switch up tactics.  I walked in to class on day to see white paper sheets on the floor in the front of the room and large paint rollers set out for the fingerprint ink.  Oh no.  No way, no how.

One of the interesting characters in my class was a guy named Bob.  Bob was older, about six and a half feet tall, and a nice enough guy.  He was the kind that always had a story.  You know that guy.  I got paired with Bob for the foot-printing.  Bob took off his shoes and I thought I was going to pass out.  I probably would have if I weren’t too busy gagging.  Apparently, Bob used to be an ice skater.  Not a hockey player, an ice skater.  Now, maybe that is code word for I was born with feet the size of steaks and toes the length of my fingers, but that is no excuse for the length and color of the toenails.  When someone would rather touch an eight-year old decaying corpse’s feet than yours, it’s time for a pedicure.

Photo courtesy of the Chicago Tribune

This morning, I heard that Enrique Iglesias admitted that one of his worst habits is biting his toenails.  I think I almost barfed into my coffee.  I realized I have a major issue.  Maybe I should have realized this when my list of foot DONT’s exceeded 10 items…

1.  Don’t touch me with your feet (see above – I don’t care if they are clean or covered in socks, or both).

2.  Don’t wear open toed shoes/flip flops/go barefoot if you do not have a pedicure (or at least have cleaned and trimmed your toenails).

3.  Don’t make me take your shoes off in your house.  Yes, I know.  I’m never visiting Japan, don’t worry.

4.  Don’t put your feet in your mouth.

5.  Don’t put other people’s feet in your mouth.

6.  If you clip your toenails, do it over a paper towel and throw the towel in the garbage.

7.  Do not put your feet up on a surface that I am going to have to eat on.

8.  Do not put your feet on the back of my seat (think road trip, movie theater).

9.  If your feet stink, wash them.

10.  If you take your stinky socks off to wash your feet, put them in the hamper.  I am not touching those bad boys to put them in there for  you.

11.  It is NEVER funny to throw your dirty socks at someone’s head.  Unless it is not my head, then it is funny.

For the love of all that is holy, DON'T go to and buy these. Now, I'm going to have nightmares.

27 Comments so far
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I gits to wear the shoes on Thursdays. If there’s a funeral we go in shifts. Pa says it’s betterd not having shoes because that’s how de Lord walked around and people that gits shoes think they betterd than the Lord an will march right to Hell in their store bought fancies. The rest of us will dance barefoot in hebben. Then I got smarty and asked Pa about winter time and the snow and all and no shoes and he got mad and now I can’t go into town anymore aptsorping city-kind ideas. Then I got this pitcher of de Lord wearing sandals and showed it to Pa. He might change his mind now and I hope so cauz winter’s acomin.

Comment by carl d'agostino

I worry about you sometimes, D’Ag. 🙂

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

You would DIE in my house! My husband has huge long monkey toes. Seriously, he could climb a tree- his second toe is as long as my pinky. He cuts his toenails and I find them everywhere- on the counter in the bathroom and I even found one hanging on the towel rack. He takes off his socks and will wear them again, and he smells his socks. I will say his feet are neat and clean (and usually not stinky) but he does have two funky toes. His middle toes are all crooked from years of playing soccer. Have you barfed yet?

Comment by thelifeofjamie

Listen, I can hear about your man’s air tacos, but I draw the line at feet. I just lost my breakfast.

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

I am going to have to use the term air tacos…that’s awesome!

Comment by thelifeofjamie

oh, and the texture of flan makes me want to barf too!

Comment by thelifeofjamie

oh my, you had me laughing out loud with the ice skater/ Enrique Iglesia bit. Biting one’s own toenails is an odd and disturbing habit. Gross.

Comment by The Simple Life of a Country Man's Wife

It’s disgusting, right? Even if you don’t have a foot phobia. Why in the world would he ever admit to doing that?

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

Dead adults never bothered me, saw a few dozen of varying degrees of dissolving during my time. BUT dead kids, NOPE never, just too sad…


Comment by gallowaygrave

Yeah, that was one of the reasons I decided not to persue that career.

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

I thought I had a terrible habit b/c I like to bite off my hangnails. But toenails?! GROSS! And I mean, how do you even get that flexible?

And hate to break this to ya, PP, but I have Vibram Five Fingers. I had some foot pain while running and a friend recommended barefoot running so I only wear them to run. I hope we can still be friends. If I slather them in BBQ sauce, would that make it better?

Comment by Pop

I guess if you don’t own toe socks, we can still be friends. Ew on the BBQ sauce though. Thanks for that.

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

Feet make me VOMIT. My hatred of them is no secret. Would jump off building before becoming pedicurist. Can’t talk about it any longer, feel hurl coming on. Ok, Biggie and Smalls are NEVER going to get away with anything, Ms. CSI – am impressed! But the arm thing is hurlish ……

Comment by izziedarling

Yeah, I always tell hubby not to piss me off to bad – I know how to get away with murder. 😉

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

Ew. I hate feet. I even hate my own feet. Pedicures make my feet tolerable.

Comment by thoughtsappear

I was barefooted when I started reading this. Out of respect, I stopped halfway through and went in and put on shoes…. Please accept my apologies…

Comment by redriverpak

Good man.

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

feet don’t bother be. but those weird ass toe shoes do. i hate em!

Comment by Melissa

Me too. Toe socks too. Blech! Who wants socks in between their toes?

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

Feet, flan, and forensics — you know, I think you’re still managing to be educational with all this peevery! And I agree no one should wear those creepy foot-gloves.

Comment by WorstProfEver

I don’t know — I think the flan is worse than the feet. I love a good foot rub! And, I want to hear more about this crime-committing degree of yours???

Comment by Average Girl

I like my own feet to be rubbed. But if you expect me to rub yours, there better be a heck of a lot of chocolate (read: NOT flan) bribery involved.

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

I was reading this post yesterday in the airport and laughing out loud. People must have thought I was crazy. I’d fit right in then because there are so many crazy people at the airport and people who don’t know how to assemble into a line.

Comment by tryityoumightlikeit

Glad I could make you laugh! Sorry you had to be at the airport. I swear, I won’t get on a flight unless it’s after noon. Airports make me drink. So do my children, but I digress.

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

I understand about the feet but think on this…no feet, no excuse to buy shoes.

Comment by blogdramedy

Oh, it’s not my feet. It’s other people’s. And, trust, if I’m buying shoes – they are totally all for me. 🙂

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

[…] I don’t have any issue with flip flops in general.  That is, unless you need a pedicure or are a man (mandals trigger my gag reflex). However, I feel we’ve reached a pivotal point […]

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