Toe Up

Last night, Liz and Kim and I spur of the moment decided to cheer ourselves up with manis and pedis! Eeee!! OMG! We are such girls! We talked about our feelings, the problems about men (will they ever learn?!), and our unusual love for drinking German beer out out glass boots at Gasthof's. Hey! What a coincidence! We've also decided to throw Kim's birthday AT GASTHOF'S! Yay! Here's to Das Boot and flickers of snuff! If you're not sure what that is, forget about it. It's something that needs to be experienced to be loved. Oh well...we ended the night with a glass of wine and pretty toes. (Just wrote "glass of toes and pretty wine" accidentally...or not.)

So, we get to the nail salon - one of those little strip mall places. Ladies, - and high-maintenence men - you know what I'm talking about. There's a mini shrine to an elephant in the corner, the walls are painted neon green, and people buzz around mopping the floor behind me and screaming at me to "Sign in!! Sign in!! What services?? PICK COLORS!". Ahh...such a relaxing atmosphere. I stared up at this enormous sign listing services like "Acr Fill, Nail Take Off, and Both Gel" and went ahead with the relatively straight-forward French Toe. Then the nerves started goin'.

In high school, my mom knew how psyched I was for my high school prom. I had the hot dress, the cute date, the best friends, everything. So she surprised me with a manicure and pedicure at the FANCY salon. I was ecstatic! I had never had a pedicure before, and sat back in the heated seats and enjoyed the soothing music, the calming colors in the room, and lilac scented eye pillow. Then, horror of all horrors, this Demon of Torture started, like, RUBBING MY FEET! She had all these crazy tools and devices of foot destruction. I writhed in my heated seat, and continually reflexively snapped my foot away from that demon like a dozen times. Finally, I gave up and stopped that evil pedicurist. "Please, you just...you just can't touch my feet anymore. You have to stop. I'm sorry. Can you just paint them without touching them?" The poor lady obliged, and a mere 5 minutes after my appointment started, I was tucking my tootsies under the heater. Sorry Mom. Turns out, I totally wasted that gift. BUT! My manicure looked bomb!

Since then, I don't get pedicures. I just don't. I can't stand the stress and anxiety of constantly resisting the urge to kick my exfoliated foot in someone's face, thereby giving them a bloody nose and resulting in a trip to the Emergency Room. Total day-ruiner. But then a few years ago, my dear friend Claire devised a wonderful plan. She called the mall nail place (which we still go to), asked them to stay open an hour later, and she'd come in with 8 girls and guaranteed a big boost in business that night. The best part? We got to bring WINE. The first time we did this, I think I was on my third glass before gingerly dipping my toes into the soapy water. I leaned back and in a haze of wine and laughter, got my very first pedicure.

Those are the only circumstances under which I've gotten pedicures. In total? I've probably gotten like 5 in my life. So last night, when I went with Kim and Liz, I was nervous again. We went during regular hours, which meant No Wine. Which meant Pharon Constantly Snapped her Feet Away From the Lady. But you guys? I MADE IT! I made it through and came outta there with some pretty toes and a BAC of 0.0. Then came another part I usually liked to block out. The payment. Turns out, when I chose my service, I made my choice based on the Worlds Biggest Sign and List of Services. Silly me - I should have KNOWN those prices were specials for HIGH SCHOOL students. She's all "Okay, $32." I'm all "Uh, it says right there $12." The woman turns and points to a faded, 8 1/2 x 11 piece of paper that just barely reads "SPA PEDICURE: $32.00." I looked at the woman, like, Are you kidding me? She looked back at me like You Sucker. So I said "Uh, I'm a high school student." She gave me a $3 discount because she thought that that was soooooooooooo funny. Rude. And Awesome.

Well now what? Kim and Liz and I all wore flip flops to the bar after our appointments for the above-mentioned girl talk, wine and awesome chicken nachos, and it was the most refreshing hour of my life. My tooties were in FLIP FLOPS again! No more scratchy wool socks and stinky winter boots. But then I got home and slipped immediately into socks in order to stave off the almost-inevitable hypothermia that comes with living in World's Coldest House. So, exactly like 5 people saw my pedicure. Remind me why I put myself through that only to shove my feet into socks the second I got home?

Oh well, I like 'em. I guess those brief 10 minutes in the morning if when I take a shower will have to suffice. Now I just need to be on the lookout for those rancid diseases people get at mall salons like that. Yay! What a refreshing, relaxing, simple experience!

Dudes: Do me a solid and have yourselves a disgustingly fun weekend, okay? And if you see my brother Peter or my sister Prinna, make sure you wish 'em a happy birthday!! Happy Birthday, Peter! Happy Birthday, Prinna!