For $12 only...

In the past few weeks, my relationship with manicures has gone from non existant to a full blown addiction. Just like crack, but a bit more expensive. I never used to like nail polish. I am opposed to many girly things. For example, i don't wear earrings. I was pressured into piercing at an early age and after enduring the pain of the stapling gun i decided no way, not for me. I let the holes close. it was over.

i've always felt uncomfortable with the idea of earrings. i also feel mildly off about large belts, high heels and strapless bras. i need those straps, i'm ENTITLED to those straps!!

But manicures. Oh sweet, sweet manicures.

Before entering my first year into the real world, i had only received 2 manicures in my life. Said manicures included a hot pink number for Emily's 1992 tropical themed bat mitzvah while the second was a seafoam green rendition to match my fluffy seafoam green frock at Sarah's. I'm positive these manicures lasted 2 days each. Between the wedgie picking and the chewing of dorito cheese particles out from between my fingernails, those suckers never stood a chance.

I always thought.... who wants magenta nails? I am a NATURAL woman, and i don't need this garbage.

Until... Sarah bought an amazingly wonderful color appropriately named 'Lady Godiva'
Oh Lady Godiva, you are indeed a lady. You are my ebony godess, and i want you to be smothered on my nails forever!

After realizing that self application of Lady Godiva looked like I took a hearty dump and wiped it sans toilet paper, i decided i had to seek professional help.

Let me tell you... for $12 only, plus tip of course, you can feel as awkward as you did the first time you were penetrated in your 11th grade boyfriend's flannel sheets while his parents watched Wheel of Fortune in the next room.

I sought out Google, and secured a lunch time appointment near my office. Look at me. Lunch-time manicures! I scarfed my $10 Pax salad and headed over to the salon. I felt quite professional and ladylike as i awaited my manicurist to come and collect me from the smushy couch in the corner.

"Square or round?" Ms. Russian Manicure Nazi inquired.

I pondered this for a moment. I don't know! Should I call Sarah? Are square nails WEIRD?! Round? Square? MEAAHAHHHH

"SQUARE!", i blurted out... not in fact sure that I truly meant it.

She arduously filed my nails, reminding me the entire time that my nails were dry, i don't take care of them and I in fact, suck at life.

Then came the tool kit. Shit, can't you just paint my nails and we'll call it a day?

She starts to prick and pluck and before I know it she is cutting up my cuticles with her little bastard scissors. I vaguely recalled Sarah warning me not to get my cuticles cut in case it's a dirty salon with unclean utensils who have possibly been exposed on FOX news.

She didn't even ask! Do i stay STOP? Is cuticle cutting neccessary? Don't i need my cuticles for growth and prosperity and calcium retention?

Torture time concludes and she lotions up my hands. It smells... interesting. She is MASSAGING my hands.
I love massages... passionately, however I have no idea where to look as she massages my hands. We are not having any sort of conversation, and is now the time to start? Should i ask if she has any pets? How she got into nails?
Is it ok to watch her rub my hands, or should i look at the woman next to me or should i look at the ceiling?

I'm getting increasingly nervous as the rubbing continues, but thankfully it's a quick job and before I know it, she's asking me to pay.

Ok, this one i get. They don't want you taking your wallet out post-paint-job.
Problem: You have to tip before the painting has even begun!!!
If i am a crappy tipper, i can be assured my nails will look like another messy toilet accident.
I angrily place my 43% tip on the table. Here we goooooo.

The painting went smashingly. Lady Godiva was one hot bitch, and i couldn't wait to return to my cubicle so i could type... and point at things? Surely, i would pick up at least 3 guys with my new and improved nails!!! MANICURES FOREVER!

After my Bitchy Picasso finished her job, She lead me over to the nail drying station.
HOME FREE BABY, no more pressure for small talk, no hand rubs, no self esteem knocking.

As i'm sitting under the nail-drying-mechanism-with-crazy-blue-infrared-lighting, i feel something on my shoulders. That something is a back massage!! It is so unbelievably awkward once again, but thankfully this time i don't have to look her in the face. Plus, i don't fear criticism in the shoulder area, as i have been told many a time that i have a pair of gloriously amazing shoulder blades.

The machine clicked off, my shoulders were left to the wind, i eased into my winter coat and ran out of the door.

I longingly adored my nails on the 4 block journey back to work. I made a quick stop into the deli next door for a diet Dr. Brown's and hopped into the elevator.

I plopped down into my desk and cracked open my soda.

FUCKKKKK

not exactly dry... yet.

Anyone know if Manicures for Dummies has been published yet??