I’ve named each one of my toes after my favorite bands. The big toe is Tori Amos the next one is D12 and, well you get the picture.

I’ve covered my bedroom walls with pictures of famous feet. Those are Natalie Merchant‘s hanging next to the door, and Luther Vandross’ above the bed. I lie awake at night, listening to Geno Delafose & French Rockin’ Boogie and wondering what the band’s toes are like.

Especially the little toes. You know, the ones that went “wee, wee, wee all the way home?” I’ll bet bands like Murder City Devils get to see a lot of little toes when they’re on tour. Heck, I’ll bet the feet just line up at the backstage door, toeing the line, hoping to be noticed. Yeah, musicians get all the feet. Lucky stiffs.

You know what my fantasy is? To go to a show, maybe NOFX, and after the final encore, the lead singer calls out my name and asks me to come up on stage. Then the band members strip naked, lie face down on the stage floor, and then I remove my shoes and socks and walk on each musician’s bare back.

Others join in, and soon my nude tootsies are trodding up and down Blink-182. Oh, the ecstasy. Pure joy.

Of course, that will never happen. Big acts like Weezer or Voodoo Glow Skulls have all the feet they want. They don’t need my feet. Not when supermodels, actors and actresses are lining up to walk their footsies up and down the musicians’ backs.

I guess you need fame and money to hang with a band’s feet, and I’m just a poor boy living in Fresno. But, maybe someday I’ll have what it takes, and then all the famous acts will feel my feet on their backs. If they only know what they’re missing.