I thought about just posting photos, but I couldn’t pick up my camera – he was in there and I couldn’t handle seeing his beautiful bald head smiling at me, when I am unable to have that now. Yeah.

HOWEVER.  I feel stronger now (not better, but stronger) and I want to approach my situation in a positive way, even though it feels like a rhino took a dump on my face. Hey, I even made it through my sister’s wedding; the speech-giving single 34-year-old loser, ALL ALONE.  I even made a speech about love and happiness, and meant it, and I survived.  I even took pictures while in Ohio that I am IN LOVE WITH.  I know a certain bokeh loving creature will love them too, so I really can’t wait to post them.  On my new blog.  That may or may not be on WordPress, I’m not crazy about their narrow width — not so fun for photos.

Anyway, it’s been nice talking with you and sometimes just at you along the way, from that part of my life. I’m not going to post here where my new blog is.  Maybe you’ll stumble upon it and not even know it’s me, maybe you’ll google “pizza addiction” and “why can’t I lose weight and still eat fried cheese” and “@$@#%$@#%$@#$ Trader Joe’s jerkfaces!!” and you’ll find me.  Thank you for reading, and for the one of you who comes to poke around here, thanks for being so loyal

Spring is slow coming, but all around town little flower surprises are pushing through.

burn out of my head

nerve inferno

sort of days.

~~~

If you’ve never been to a nail salon or you’re one of those people who believes those in the service industry didn’t sign up to do a service, go away.  This is a review of what someone gets paid to do and how they didn’t do it.

Let’s agree that there is an unspoken competition when you walk into that salon.  If you grab the newest Essie color it is your nail tech’s MISSION to guard that bottle.  It is also your nail tech’s mission to help you not screw up your nails – AKA taking your bag from place to place.  This is not news, people.

I arrived and sat in a chair and immediately discovered the entire back of it ripped through due to the massager things destroying the fabric. These exposed rollers and such poked my liver, which isn’t helpful. Once the nailtech moved the rollers away she started on my feet.

Then her phone rang, which she answered, and walked away to talk on. Because, you know, my time is totally wastable when I’m getting our services during lunch. The flies were an added bonus.

She returned, got back to work on my feet.  They look great.  She then walked away.  didn’t grab my bag or my bottles of polish, just left me to struggle my short self out of the frickin chair.

she starts on my nails.  Her cell rings again.  She answers, talking and chatting, GESTURING me rudely to hand over my hands to her.  Gets off the phone.  Continues talking, doesn’t apologize.  As she gets to my hands distractedly, another woman walks in.  My nail tech had placed my nail polish far away from me, into the grabbing area of new client, who promptly snatched it up and walked away with it.  Did my nail person notice? NOPE

“That’s mine, for my nails” I said with a smile.
“OH! my gosh, sorry!” – girl, smiling.  Smile turned to snark as she then proceeded to say “that girl has the color” “THAT GIRL” “BUT ITS FOR THAT GIRL!!”
“it’s not MINE MINE, it’s for my nails AT SOME POINT” I said as I knocked my head toward my nail tech who was now on the salon phone yelling and making appointments.  Did I mention the flies?

“you pay now?” she says, the typical “tip me before it’s over” verbal cue of the salon world.  Do you tip your waiter before he feeds you? no.  I wrote “cash” into the tip line because, obviously, I intended to pay in cash.

I always, no matter what, tip at least 20%.  I mean, shoot, they’re touching my feet.  But this time I thought I would actually tip on the quality of service.

When my nails were done she did not walk me over to the drier, she did not give me a little neck rub, she did not place my bag by me, no she dropped it behind me, spilling its contents, didn’t pick it up, and went to go give someone else a foot job.

I dried fast.  I was so pissed I was bleeding polish remover.  I grabbed a fiver out of my wallet, walked up to her mid pedi, said “THANK YOU” placed the 5 in front of her and walked out, grabbing a card so I could send the salon a bag of vampires for their shitty service.

I’m one block away when I hear a rabid scuttling behind me.  ”MISS!! MISS!!! WHY  NO TIP!!”  repeat repeat.  She was lathered up in nail tech anger.

I spun around, confused.  ”I did.”  She yells “you wrote CASH and you didn’t TIP”.  I said “you’re right” (now mind you she’s scurrying back to tthe salon while I’m trying to answer her as she’s yelling at me on a FULL STREET OF PEOPLE) , “I wrote cash…”

I chase her back into the salon where every woman (at least 8) is staring at me and she’s already ripping the receipt off of the spindle and shoving it in my face: “LOOK!!! YOU WROTE CASH!!!”

I lost it.  ”I KNOW!” I screamed back.  ”WHICH IS WHY” stalking to her pedi chair “WHEN I WALKED BY” grabbed undeserved fiver “YOUR CHAIR AND SAID THANK YOU” shoving fiver in her face “I GAVE YOU CASH!!”

silence

“oh.” suddenly she’s soft, “I had no idea.”

“yes, well thank you for chasing me down the street”