- Had sex in any sort of unusual location, at least not that I can recall. (Hi Mom!)
- Drank a beer. (And why would I when the humble grape has given us something so spectacular and perfect?)
- Had a cup of coffee. (People who absolutely cannot function without coffee in the morning do irritate me a bit. There, I've said it.)
- Had a pedicure.
Most people think I'm joking when I say I've never had a pedicure. I have to confess that I do keep my toenails painted at all times (usually in a shade that's best left to streetwalkers). If you ever spot me with naked toenails you can rest assured that I've just hatched out of a pod and that the aliens have taken the real me away. Won't they be surprised when they implant an alien spawn in my womb only to find that it no worky.
Why have I never had a pedicure? In my mind, having a pedicure is akin to saying, "Hey there! I'm pretty important. So important, in fact, that I'd like to pay you to get down on your knees and touch the grodiest part of me." I just can't get my brain around that. It's not that I think my feet are the worst out there. I don't even hate them. I save that kind of rancor for my thighs. It's just that it seems awfully . . . self-indulgent, I guess.
I have a similar roadblock when it comes to massages. I have had a couple of massages as a result of gift cards that could not be used in any other way (And if you know me, you know that unused gift card = does. not. compute). When I get a massage, I imagine that the masseuse (massage therapist?) is thinking: "I don't have enough hands to cover this expanse of flesh." It's hard to relax when you're convinced that the massage person is pretty sure that you're Jabba the Hutt.
Can anyone convince me of the merits of getting a pedicure? Give it your best shot, ladies.