Hey, it's going to be beach time for Knot again, so she spent 1.5 hours soaking, buffing, sloughing, exfoliating and massaging the tootsies, and then she continued to the nails. Trim, file, scrape out unmentionable stuff, buff and paint the toenails!

And the result?

Utterly mediocre.

I think the toenails looked better a little longer. My big toes embarass me enough. They look like they could be thumbs on the hands of a portly construction worker in Jersey City, whose name might be Joey, who possibly eats his lunch that his wife (maybe called Fran) has packed in his metal lunchbox as she has probably done for the last 16 years. Very possibly he uses his big, bulbous and calloused thumbs to wedge out his sandwich that's most likely stuck next to a Thermos of what is probably coffee.

Those thumbs? My toes. Simple as that. If I'd let the toenails on the big toe be as they were, we might not have such unflattering foot visuals, people.

Only now, they're painted in a pearly white. And it looks like I hired a pedicurist suffering Parkinsons disease. The polish is so old, I've had it for at least two years, and I can now see the bubbles dried in my paint job.

But it's beach time again! Yaaayyy!! Anthony and I are going to the beach Wednesday night... which I translated to "Wednesday afternoon" when I told Boss why I couldn't make it to our outing.

Which really, should not be happening anyway.