So, bear with me.
I don’t think this post is actually about any one thing and I am fairly sure there is no point.
Indulge me anyway?
Randy and I had my cousin’s wedding reception to attend on Saturday.
My cousin is a lovely young man.
I will forever remember him as a 3 year old, playing in the mud at his new home. I have a picture of him covered in mud up to his neck, his glorious shock of white hair unmarred. His knees are bent and his face is lifted to the sky and he is screaming in joy.
One of the best pictures that has ever existed or ever will exist.
Now he is a man and he married his true love. Nice.
Side note: The reception was fancy enough to necessitate a seating chart. Randy and I sat at a table with my parents and Middle Sister. My mother, who just turned 79 in January is very nearly vegetarian. Not for moral reasons, meat just grosses her out, except bacon. Martha loves bacon. Anyway, she only ate potatoes, green beans and bread from the buffet. Even though there was perfectly good chicken and prime rib. The potatoes where thick and round and crispy on the outside. Not fries and and not baked, but goddamn perfect. Mom looked at me and said “Shell, these potatoes are slappin”. I love my mother like frozen crazy. Also, she is more down with current lingo than I am.
So I had to look good, right?
It’s early spring and I’ve barely had time to de-yeti.
I am rather hirsute, so the de-yeti process takes a while. Also, my heels, which are always horrible, had been unattended for the entire winter. A pedicure was in order. In the worst way.
I had to de-yeti because no way was I getting a pedicure with fur covered legs. I also have hobbit toes, so I had a chore in front of me.
Anyway, I took care of business and was presentable for my pedi.
The woman who gave me my pedicure was amazing.
Seriously, my heels now look like human heels instead of alligator heels. She deserves and award or a medal or something. Also, English is not her first language and I had a difficult time understanding her.
I did, however, understand her dismay by the fact that I was getting a pedicure and had no intention of getting a manicure.
My current fingernail regime is to wait until there is a little growth and then I tear them off. If the result is too jagged, I will just chew them into submission. The result is, my fingernails look like they are maintained by gerbils.
So, I agreed to get my nails done.
I did not, however, understand what I was agreeing to.
I thought I was getting a manicure, just a traditional manicure but the polish would last a month. I got a pink and white dip. I only know it is a pink and white dip because I saw a poster on the wall and realized that is what the technician was saying.
Pink and white dip isn’t just a manicure and polish.
She dipped my fingers in a jar of super fine powder over and over. The last few dips were the color I picked, which was a nude color. This did not make my nail technician happy. She thinks I’m afraid of color.
But that isn’t the point. The point is, now I have these weird fake nails.
I didn’t want fake nails and now I have fake nails. Also, fake nails are super dumb. My finger nails are like 47% thicker than normal which looks sort of odd and presents more problems than one would think.
First, and most importantly, scratching is no where near as satisfying.
So, now, if my head itches and I scratch it, it’s like I’m scratching through plexi-glass. My scratching skills are depleted now because I have pink and white dip on my finger nails. This is more troubling than you think it is. Seriously.
The other thing, and this is also craptacular, is I can no longer use my fingernails as a tool.
I taped up the baseboards in the office today because I am still painting. I will always be painting. I am pretty sure I died sometime in 2015 and am in hell and my hell is, I will always be painting.
You know what you can’t do if you have pink and white dip on your fingernails? You can’t get a grip on the painter’s tape. Because pink and white dip makes you helpless.
I had to get Randy to get a start on the painter’s tape and then be super careful to not let it completely adhere because my hands are basically useless right now.
The fake nails actually make typing harder.
So, next week is going to be fun. If by fun we agree that fun = sucks.
It’s the yearly sale at my job where I have to work with the public and spend hours schlepping pool chemicals out to cars. I hate this sale. I’m too old for this shit.
I have no idea how the pink and white dip is going to hold up.
So, to sum up.
- The wedding was awesome.
- My mom is adorable.
- I still have a fuckton of painting to do.
- My hands don’t work as good as they used to, but my fingernails look really nice.
- However, my fingernails not slappin’.
- Also, my head itches.
I guess everything will be okay in around 30 days.