Chili, NY
12:42 AM
It’s not a bad feeling, sitting with your feet in a massager. I just got back from a night at the ladies house. I experienced my first pedicure. I’m not sure how it came about in discussion, but I said I’d never had one. I asked about what took place and what it was like. She ended up having a home pedicure kit. So I spent my night at a home spa.
As I soaked my feet, the two female roommates took turns massaging each other with one of those Mr. Happy things you get for Christmas. Of course I stared intently at the two females ohhing and ahhhing. You dream about stuff like that as a kid. Except the girls weren’t in lingerie and they weren’t about to put me into a Cinemax scene.
I never knew how relaxing it was to have your feet worked on. But it was. Feet rub. Oil rub. Loofa the dead skin off. Soak. Moisturizer. It was nice. I had cut my nails earlier in the week, so there was no cutting and cuticle stuff. I still feel manly enough since we didn’t go all the way on the pedicure.
And the night got better. Now, before people’s minds run back to the Cinemax movie, it wasn’t like that. The ladies let me veg out and they went out in the rain and got Abbot’s (awesome ice cream/custard) and a movie. I was supposed to go out with the boys for a birthday, but I ended up getting a makeshift pedicure, eating ice cream, and being home by midnight. What a lameo. But a lameo with soft feet.