Calypso, but only for a few miles

In the spirit of looking ahead, I've ordered seven sets of toenail clippers, which are twice as big as fingernail clippers and five times more likely to be confiscated during a pre-boarding security pat-down. I never declare my personal hygiene items during the security check since they're easy to explain away as long as you're Whitey. If they don't consider the semi-chub I've developed during the pat-down a potential weapon, those bitches are fooling themselves with a capital "foo".

Apart from that, toenail clippers are also useful for removing "skin tags", which are inexplicably known as "moles" when they're round, but most of mine look like I've got small, wet corn-flakes hanging off of my body. My aunt (who is a nurse,) refers to these extra bits as "hangin' titties". I suspect this particular aunt had some interesting experiences in the girls' locker room in junior high to have arrived at such a metaphor. Anyway, she reccomends clipping the skin tag off with toenail clippers, quickly staunching the flow of blood, and then assuring any concerned on-lookers that, yes, I did intend to cut myself this way, and yes, I promise not to do this to you when you're asleep. People always believe you the first time that you promise not to cause them harm. If you have to assure them for a third time, it'll be best to move on to someone else, preferably a stranger with a sweet ass.