So.
Wednesday, Rawr and I went to Pretty Nail to get manicures before I left for Tammy's wedding.
Question: Does anyone else find it slightly disarming that the name of the nail salon claims to only beautify one nail? Like, it's their guarantee that at least one of the ten or twenty nails you subject to their beautification process will turn out alright?
Anyway, believe it or not, I've never had a manicure before IN MY LIFE.
Remember, I worked at a Quick Service restaurant for 900 years. Even if I did get my nails done, they'd look like crap fifteen minutes after waking through the door. Plus, we didn't allow acrylics.
Yes, I'll have a number one, hold the fake nail. Extra mayo, please.
I made Rawr go with me because women prefer to travel in packs.
We walked through the door and were met with the blank stare of the woman behind the counter.
Me: [to Rawr] She looks mean.
Rawr: SHH!
Me: [to lady] Hello. We'd both like to do manicures today.
Lady: [mumble, judging with eyes]
Me: Yes. Acrylics? [looks at Rawr] HELP ME.
Rawr: [checking out creepy card with all kinds of fake nails stuck to it] [IGNORING ME]
Lady: .....
Me: My nail beds are. Um. Thin? So if you could um, just-
Rawr: [slaps card down] Be careful with her nail beds. We both want acrylics.
Lady: [stares, walks away]
Me: [looking around frantically] What do I do, Rawr? Do I follow her?
Rawr: [flaps hand in gesture that I follow Lady]
I follow the chick to the table and sit down in the chair, causing her to snap "Get up, chair not crean!" whereas I leap to my feet and mumble an apology.
Lady uses her hand to fan the air around the chair and gestures for me to sit. By that point, I'm starting to freak out and keep trying to look hard at Lady's face because she keeps mumbling and no offense, but she has an accent and I can't understand her and I'm terrified of offending her.
I sit in the chair, she plunks herself down and starts messing with all kinds of things. Not long ago, a friend had a bit of an incident involving nail files and improper cleaning of said instruments, so I watch Lady intently to make sure she uses clean utensils on my nails. Lady flips the switch on a machine labeled Chemical Fume Extractor and pulls on a mask. Um, HELLO? Where the hell is my mask and exactly how radioactive are things going to get around here?
Lady flicks her hand out at me and I jumps back, but apparently that was my cue to put my hands out for her to begin sawing and hacking things.
I've been trying to grow my nails out, so I'm pretty traumatized when she pulls out the nail clippers and proceeds to chop off all my hard work. Like I said, I've never had acrylics before so all of this was pretty new and horrifying for me.
I think I black out for a while, and then the fumes revive me.
During this time, a young girl comes into the salon and complains that her nails have fallen off. Of course, I freak out quietly to myself thinking OMFG! HER NAILS ALL FELL OFF! SHE HAS THE PLAGUE! I AM GOING TO DIE.
Apparently, it was just a few of her gels, whatever the crap that means.
While the chick sits there for a repair, my Nailist (?) sits in her chair talking mass amounts of crap in her native tongue. I can tell, because she's speaking so quietly to herself that no one, not even me (who is almost in her lap) could really hear her, and also because she is shooting death looks in the young chick's direction while she files my nails. At the end of her rant, I kid you not, she leaned over and fake-spit into the trash can.
I could not wait to get out of there. I was afraid she was going to file the crap out of my nail right down to the quick.
As we both stood, she straightened up all 4'8 of herself and said, "My nail don't fall off. I work good."
Rawr and I paid and left.
None of my nails have fallen off.
Although I have learned to type with a stick.
Tammy's wedding went off without a hitch. I didn't trip, Tams looked gorgeous, and everything ended beautifully.
A photo? Um... Okay. Here. Check this out.
Yep. Pretty sure my eyes are Demon Red, I actually am that tall, and someone should have told me that strapless bras are NEVER GOING TO WORK FOR ME.
There was a photo of me that was much, much worse, but the beauty of the anonymous internet is that no one can make me post it.
Also, just so you know how dedicated I am, I had to type this entire blog post with a pencil.
It is very hard to type with claws.
Wednesday, Rawr and I went to Pretty Nail to get manicures before I left for Tammy's wedding.
Question: Does anyone else find it slightly disarming that the name of the nail salon claims to only beautify one nail? Like, it's their guarantee that at least one of the ten or twenty nails you subject to their beautification process will turn out alright?
Anyway, believe it or not, I've never had a manicure before IN MY LIFE.
Remember, I worked at a Quick Service restaurant for 900 years. Even if I did get my nails done, they'd look like crap fifteen minutes after waking through the door. Plus, we didn't allow acrylics.
Yes, I'll have a number one, hold the fake nail. Extra mayo, please.
I made Rawr go with me because women prefer to travel in packs.
We walked through the door and were met with the blank stare of the woman behind the counter.
Me: [to Rawr] She looks mean.
Rawr: SHH!
Me: [to lady] Hello. We'd both like to do manicures today.
Lady: [mumble, judging with eyes]
Me: Yes. Acrylics? [looks at Rawr] HELP ME.
Rawr: [checking out creepy card with all kinds of fake nails stuck to it] [IGNORING ME]
Lady: .....
Me: My nail beds are. Um. Thin? So if you could um, just-
Rawr: [slaps card down] Be careful with her nail beds. We both want acrylics.
Lady: [stares, walks away]
Me: [looking around frantically] What do I do, Rawr? Do I follow her?
Rawr: [flaps hand in gesture that I follow Lady]
I follow the chick to the table and sit down in the chair, causing her to snap "Get up, chair not crean!" whereas I leap to my feet and mumble an apology.
Lady uses her hand to fan the air around the chair and gestures for me to sit. By that point, I'm starting to freak out and keep trying to look hard at Lady's face because she keeps mumbling and no offense, but she has an accent and I can't understand her and I'm terrified of offending her.
I sit in the chair, she plunks herself down and starts messing with all kinds of things. Not long ago, a friend had a bit of an incident involving nail files and improper cleaning of said instruments, so I watch Lady intently to make sure she uses clean utensils on my nails. Lady flips the switch on a machine labeled Chemical Fume Extractor and pulls on a mask. Um, HELLO? Where the hell is my mask and exactly how radioactive are things going to get around here?
Lady flicks her hand out at me and I jumps back, but apparently that was my cue to put my hands out for her to begin sawing and hacking things.
I've been trying to grow my nails out, so I'm pretty traumatized when she pulls out the nail clippers and proceeds to chop off all my hard work. Like I said, I've never had acrylics before so all of this was pretty new and horrifying for me.
I think I black out for a while, and then the fumes revive me.
During this time, a young girl comes into the salon and complains that her nails have fallen off. Of course, I freak out quietly to myself thinking OMFG! HER NAILS ALL FELL OFF! SHE HAS THE PLAGUE! I AM GOING TO DIE.
Apparently, it was just a few of her gels, whatever the crap that means.
While the chick sits there for a repair, my Nailist (?) sits in her chair talking mass amounts of crap in her native tongue. I can tell, because she's speaking so quietly to herself that no one, not even me (who is almost in her lap) could really hear her, and also because she is shooting death looks in the young chick's direction while she files my nails. At the end of her rant, I kid you not, she leaned over and fake-spit into the trash can.
I could not wait to get out of there. I was afraid she was going to file the crap out of my nail right down to the quick.
As we both stood, she straightened up all 4'8 of herself and said, "My nail don't fall off. I work good."
Rawr and I paid and left.
None of my nails have fallen off.
Although I have learned to type with a stick.
Tammy's wedding went off without a hitch. I didn't trip, Tams looked gorgeous, and everything ended beautifully.
A photo? Um... Okay. Here. Check this out.
Yep. Pretty sure my eyes are Demon Red, I actually am that tall, and someone should have told me that strapless bras are NEVER GOING TO WORK FOR ME.
There was a photo of me that was much, much worse, but the beauty of the anonymous internet is that no one can make me post it.
Also, just so you know how dedicated I am, I had to type this entire blog post with a pencil.
It is very hard to type with claws.
1 comment:
lovely, Em. you did good typing with a stick.....You look very nice in the pic....
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