Feet are gross. They just are. And the only thing worse than feet are toenails, specifically of the long variety. My husband (who I’ll refer to as The Sarge) knows my opinion on this topic so, being the loving man that he is, he decided he was going to grow out his toenail. Yes, toenail, as in one. Apparently, people who do crack like to keep one of their pinky nails long in order to act as a little spoon for scooping up that magical powder they so love. Since the Air Force frowns upon drug use and my husband has a serious nail biting issue, he decided the next best thing would be to grow out his pinky toenail. Really? So disgusting. This ugly little toe and it’s nail had been growing way past their due date and I was very clear that it needed to be cut immediately. Somehow, the Sarge thought I was joking. The final straw came as we were riding home from the beach. The offending foot stayed on my dashboard for an hour and a half while my husband ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the way the sun was streaming through his prized nail. That was it, I was done. No more crack toe. I delivered an ultimatum right there and told him to remove it or I would do it for him. And if he lost a toe in the process, so be it. I refused to sleep with a mini-knife under my sheets for another night. Fast forward to the next day: The Sarge came home from work, took off his boots and socks to get ready for a shower and I heard a scream. I thought one of the dogs had been maimed and was done for. Imagine my surprise when he came at me like a banshee claiming I had cut his toenail in his sleep! The crack toe was gone…. miracles do happen! For the record, I never actually got a chance to snip that dagger off his hoof but he refuses to believe me. I’m not sure I could have actually come that close to the thing without puking. But if the Sarge wants to believe I cut it and is afraid of me prowling around in the night… so be it!
Also, how sick is that picture? Holy crap.