Me, a 12-pack of Coors, a razor and a bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide

I don't really think it started out particularly well, either.

 

This is a good point.
But it truly is not ending well.

 

After watching my grandpa do that once on one of my toes, I don't have the balls to do that myself. Yeah, I'm a wuss.

 

When I was in college and playing basketball I used to get my toes stomped all the time over the course of the games, or mash them into the fronts of my shoes on quick cuts and stops.

A number of times over the years I lost both my big toenails because of all the damage I did to the tissue underneath them -- you know, they get all purple from all the blood.

The first time it happened I had my foot up on the toilet and I was drying it after a shower. I caught the towel on the edge of one of them and POP!!! Off it comes in the towel.

It was kind of shocking at first but when I saw there was a little bit of nail growing in underneath, I felt better.

 

Much like I feel after reading that story, Norm.

 

I should've saved it for breakfast time. Silly me.

 

I've got one bowl of Cookie Crisp left. Don't you dare ruing that for me.


Please?

 

Ruing?

 

Losing your big toenail is one of the weirdest feelings ever. It's weird because it doesn't hurt. The pain of the original injury is usually well behind you, and this dead thing just pops off your body. It's surreal.

 

I stand by all of my typos.

 

Admirable

 

Horseshit. Losing your big toenail DOES hurt.

In the aforementioned I'm-a-stupid-asshole-who-dropped-a-table-on-his-foot story, I had the toe bandaged and couldn't wear a shoe over it for two weeks. I was forced to wear one Chuck Taylor, one flip-flop to class.

Fast-forward to a party at my frat house one Friday night. One of my fraternity brothers thought he could zip past me in a small hallway to get to the main party room.

One scream later, the toenail hangs by a thread. Here goes...Plink.

One more scream later, I'm missing a big toenail.