More bare feet at Starbucks

There was more shoeless action tonight.

Unlike the previous pair, these two were MOST definitely NOT metrosexuals. They were full on -sexual. They did, however, appear to be a couple. Everyone has a soul mate.

I'm surfing the Internet, charging my phone and killing time waiting for the midnight show of "Harry Potter" when they dart in.

They're fresh from the beach - or somewhere with water - because the skinny one has wet hair. Long wet hair, like shoulder length and he's giggling like a fiend. And the ugliest pair of board shorts this side of a lumber yard.

He's also trying - trying being the operative word here - to grow facial hair. All that seems to be happening is the beginnings of a Chia pet on his chin.

The chunky one has on Billabong - shorts and a tee - and no wallet. Which he orders the thin man back out to the car. When skinny returns, they link hands at the register and wait for their venti caramel frappuccinos.

But back to the feet.

Nobody has any shoes on.

Not even sandals.

And we're not talking - "Take the shoes off and wander around on the floor" here - we're talking - "walk in from outside and stomp to the register in your bare feet."

Across the same tile floor trod by hundreds of people every day.

Across the same tile floor that countless germs breed upon.

Across the same tile floor that people walk on the nasty sidewalk outside (the one that dogs slobber all over).

Across the same tile floor that people - just like you - ALSO walk barefoot on.

Every time I see bare feet on the floor at the Starbucks (or anywhere) I just think about that whole "Britney Spears and the gas station bathroom" thing. You don't know where that floor has been. You don't know where other people's FEET have been. You don't know where nothing has been and you are putting your bare flesh down on it.

In short ... EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Like the immortal Holly Holiday said - "Everybody has a random."

But you know, that venti caramel frappuccino can cure anything!