My feet are enigmatic.

They have great potential, but rarely live up to it. When they are clean and smooth and tended to, my feet are my favorite part of my body.

In winter, however, after they’ve been hidden away and virtually ignored save the cursory scrubbing in the daily shower, they are the stuff of monster legend.

I develop calluses on my heels so thick that you can stick a straight pin a good ¼” in before I’ll feel it. The calluses occasionally crack and bleed and are painful. The top layer of skin on my feet has the consistency of the rawhide my dog chews on and could be a reasonable substitute for 40-grit sandpaper. It’s not a good scene.

Two products rescue my feet from hideosity. Yes, I know that’s not a word. If you had seen my feet last week, though, you might place a call to Mr. Webster. The first of these miracle workers is this:

AmLactin Moisturizing Body Cream is decidedly NOT glamorous. You won’t see any movie stars hawking it, and it doesn’t turn up on the shelves of any of the finest stores. It is, nevertheless, the only lotion I’ve ever used that can soften the concrete that the skin on my winter feet becomes.

This, also, saves the day:

I’m Not Really A Waitress, by OPI is my winter toenail color. In the spring and summer I wear Cajun Shrimp, also by OPI.

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And behold the evidence.

Before:

After:

On a busload of hookers, Markus sits at the front.

Knocking down brush and obstacles with his dick, Markus is blazing a new trail.  He’s a cultural icon.  The Rosa Parks of whores.  Just ask him – he’ll tell you as much. (As in no shit, he thinks he’s Rosa Parks.)

Ok, I need to strip naked this fact before I go on.  After our post about Markus and men at brothels, I applied for a job at the Shady Lady Ranch.  That’s right.  Bio complete with tasteful bare-assedness and a rundown of “skills and experience.”

I have yet to hear back from Bobbi Davis, Madam of the Shady Lady.  So if this post tastes a little like sour grapes, you know the field they were harvested from.

As many of the female commenters so clearly explained in our post about prostidudes, female clientele of gigolos are likely not looking for a hard and fast jack hammering.  If they’re spending the money, they want to walk away feeling better than they did when they arrived, which for women would appear to require someone capable of carrying on a conversation on myriad topics.  Someone smart, quick-witted and sensitive.  Someone to make them feel beautiful, intelligent, desired and loved.

Allow me to introduce Markus.

He’s a Marine.  I know – awesome, right?  And if you saw his picture in our previous post, you know he’s muscled.  But he’s also a high school dropout.  I guess that’s better than being kicked out, which is what happened to him after performing in two scenes in a porn flic.  That’s right – in the great big world of porn, populated by thousands upon thousands of men and women, Markus wasn’t good enough to last longer than two scenes.

But he’s gonna charge you $300 for the pleasure of his company for an hour.

Oh, and I almost forgot.  When his junk was plucked from the pile of manhood applying for the job?  He was jobless and homeless.  Right.  A pants-pissing homeless guy not good enough for porn or high school commencement.  And Bobbi Davis wants you to make the equivalent of a car payment to spend an hour with him.

And where the female employees of the Shady Lady and just about every other brothel are expected to please every client that walks through the door, male or female, Markus is sticking to the chicks. Which is a shame, really. Because look at those plump lips. Those manicured eyebrows. The wet eyes. He has Boneriffic written all over him.

You know what?  I changed my mind.  Jane’s right.  Take any woman with brushed hair and teeth and put her in a bar, and in 3 minutes she’ll be able to find seven men better than Markus to take home and slake her thirst for flesh.  And for free (save for the condom and STD test).

And Bobbi Davis, who I first thought was a marketing genius, is really just a media whore. Her selection in men proves she really has no clue what monied females want in a man. Either that or I should have been using “Please sleep with me, I’m dumb and homeless” as a pickup line all this time.

I’m taking my clothes off now. Should I leave them off, or should I put on my exercise clothes and go downstairs?

Is this the foreplay you said you were trying to work on?

Um, sure. If I want a little by 10 tonight, I figure I’d better start now. Right?

Lemme know how that turns out for you.