Ladies and Gentlemen, it is with great honor that I present the first annual "Write Kim Shable’s Column, See Your Name in Print and Win a Bag of Cookies Contest," Katie Gillig and Brandi Wiles! Several other worthy people submitted, and they win my accolades, but no cookies.

    Have you ever been so bored that you just wished your toe was on fire so that you’d have something to do? I know that stopping, dropping, and rolling might not be your idea of a good time but, it’d certainly get you out of a couple of sticky situations.

    For example your least favorite professor who has a penchant for anything endorsed by Richard Simmons requests a meeting with you to discuss your "attendance". During the course of this meeting he slides closer and closer to you, making you wish that he believed in Tic Tacs.
Suddenly, your toe spontaneously combusts- sometimes the lord works in mysterious way’s (note to readers: since that burning bush thing God might have shied away from the use of flames).

    Another situation that flammable body parts could get you out of is the infamous parent’s sex talk. Imagine this, you go home for the weekend all psyched about avoiding Convo only to have your mother say, "Dear, now, that you’re in college I think it’s time we talk about S-E-X."
Due to the fact that you are twenty- one years old and you’ve known all about sex from "research in the library," and reading R.S. Ross’s column, this sounds about as appetizing as Hoki bar for the third Friday in a row. What could possibly get you out of this conversation about the birds and the bees?
The answer is simple, a flaming toe. Your mother will probably be so concerned about your appendage, that she will drop the subject, smother the flames with a couch cushion, and spend the rest of the weekend pampering you and typing your papers because sitting at the computer is excruciatingly painful with a burnt toe. The horrifying memories will keep the subject from coming up again until the night before your wedding, even though you and your fiancee have been living together for three years.
 
    A sensible alternative to a flaming toe, since that seems highly improbable, would be shooting yourself in the foot. For example, when you’re on your way to an out of town campus event and the person you despise most in the world offers to let you ride in their idea of a "pimpmobile" which is in fact a 1979 Pinto painted the color of atomic horse crap, a bleeding stub where a toe used to be could come in handy. I mean, let’s face it, who really wants blood stains on their matching vinyl interior. Everyone knows that blood red and atomic horse crap don’t go well together, and besides it’s hard to get blood out of vinyl.
 
    Consider this, if you’re sick of fellow students giving you blank stares when you get up to get a drink in the middle of class. Why don’t you spice up their lives and just walk out carrying pieces of your toe. Sure, it might disgust them, there may even be projectile vomit, but, at least they’ll envy your undoubtable excuse to leave the class. It may even earn you some brownie points from your professor for proving that the people in your class really do have a pulse at 8 AM on a Friday morning.

    So if you want to add variety, spice and action to your life we highly suggest getting rid of one of your toes, it’s bound to make you the life of the party. Although both of us still have all of our appendages, and no extras, we  often pondered the possibilities of losing a toe. Unfortunately sandals would be out of the question. Now that we have you considering self mutilation meaning we’ve done our jobs, we’re turning you back over to Kim. Her column  next week will be uproariously funny but, will probably lack enough references to her awesome friends who stood by her when her picture looked like she was a middle-aged man with a glandular problem.