a quick mental drift

This is the view from my desk as I wait for another call to begin and I can’t say that it makes me particularly happy. If you live somewhere that had seventy degree temperatures last week and you now find yourself staring at snow you can feel my pain. The sunshine might distract from the current nineteen degree outside temperature until you actually step out in it or just open the door for the dogs. Is it wrong that I can’t wait for some full-on global warming to kick in?
Yes my desert dwelling friends are probably going to have to join us up here closer to a constant supply of fresh water and yes this might not be the best long term human race survival thinking but this snow has me inside of my own selfish space right now. The snakes in my head are restless and this weather is making it worse. Plus I made the mistake of glancing at Facebook last night and accidentally stumbled upon national take a picture of your toes on vacation day.
It took everything I had to not go on a comment scoring rampage. Example: 6.5 nice nail color but why bother painting that pinky toe as the flesh has overtaken most of the surface area. And by the way I didn’t really know that toe shaving was a thing until I notices some obvious razor burns, scrapes, and band-aids. I’m not really a foot guy but I can’t stop my brain from picking up on stuff that doesn’t look right. I laughed out loud at a person who used a filter to blur out some obviously disturbing foot features. Here’s an idea… DON’T POST THE PICTURE.
I would like to know more about the whole foot fetish deal. Our broken brains and what drives them is endlessly fascinating to me. I wonder if there is an evolutionary component to the foot thing. Something like my mate needs good feet to lug this tent across the tundra. Wikipedia has a bunch of BS listed under causes but it all seems like nonsense. I had a shot at talking to someone with a bad case of this but I didn’t handle the situation well. One of our roommates in college was moving out and we came across his box of dirty foot porn magazines. I might have taken the teasing well past the recommended safe levels. Better than even odds that he still hates me to this day.
Oh well, can’t please everyone.


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