Sasquatch in Manhattan

Bigfoot SasquatchI once saw a throw pillow that read Give a man a foot and he’ll think he is a ruler. This may or may not apply to the folks in your neighborhood. In this New York household, the throw pillows read Give a man two feet and he thinks he is a Sasquatch: 

DEAR ABBY: My husband of eight years will not resolve his foot odor problem. We live in a small apartment, and it’s humiliating when we have company and half the apartment smells like stinky feet.

He refuses to wear socks, and his solution in winter is to open all the windows and turn on the fan as soon as he returns from work. The “airing out” never completely gets rid of the smell — and I freeze! How can I get him to change? — FED UP IN MANHATTAN

DEAR FED UP: You obviously can’t change your husband, but you don’t have to risk getting pneumonia, either. Shoe repair shops sell deodorizing products in the form of sprays and powders. Or buy a large container of baking soda, and when your husband removes his shoes, dump a cupful into each one. They next day the smell should be gone.

Dump a cupful of baking soda into each shoe! That could get costly. The wife should just call Bobo, Matt, Cliff, and Ranae of the Bigfoot Field Research Organization (BRFO.)

HMS Sasquatch, a Vessel Measured in Feet

I’ve got some humonginormous feet. And I, usually, almost always, quite rarely, have complete control over the things.

In Boot Camp, I marched behind a guy who would later become my ‘A School’ roommate. And I kicked his sole more than once an hour. (I was always muttering: Whoops, sorry buddy!) When you are in tight formation, it is quite easy to do:

Helston Freedom Parade

For reference, my feet are roughly the same size as poor Emma Cahil, an Oxford Brookes student from Worcester. And she has one of the largest set of dobermans ever launched from the London pier. They christened them with a bottle of Dom Pérignon and the Royal Navy even dothed to issue them a name, HMS Sasquatch.

Yes, to answer your question. I do feel better about my situation now that I’ve picked on a poor, defenseless schoolgirl. Well, a big, defenseless schoolgirl. Umm, a big schoolgirl.

Boy, that was a terrible apology. Sorry Emma! I’ll lend you any of my shoes, any time. But you gotta get to Sandy Eggo.