Twinkle toes

You know what I hate? I hate when the sparkles I put in the center of the flower decorating the manicure on my big toes fall off and all I have are petals and no stamen.

Pet peeve.

I went to the manicure place yesterday for a mani/pedicure. This always makes me a little uncomfortable because the women doing the work are all Vietnamese and I often feel like the Great White Woman letting the little people wash her feet. If I could do as good a job on my own, I would. In the end, my social morality is less than my vanity, so I go.

The lady I like best was free. She's almost always busy so this is a big deal. We get along well, I did some business cards for her, etc. I like her. She did my toes and they came out perfect.

Then a customer with an appointment (I never make one - they say walk-ins are welcome, so I walk in) showed up and she had to hand my manicure off to the woman who owns the place.

She never fails to do the worst job. She cut my finger, it bled like watercolor in the rain, and even though there was this big scab of blood, she intended to polish over it.

I told her to cut it out and I ended up coming back and having the right woman do my nails all over again.

Why this story merits immortality, I'll never understand. I needed to update my journal and I had nothing better to write about, really.