The Plight of The Nail Technician

Although I have been to some places that the nail technicians seem to be making fun of you in a different language, it's understandable considering they have a very challenging job to face every day.  I commend these people and their mission to make us all look prettier.  On second thought, I don't think I really blame them for making fun of the customers... wouldn't you want to have a chuckle at the expense of the stranger in front of you (if they had no idea) while you scrape the dirt out of their crusted nasty toe nail?  I would.  Does that make me less of a human being for admitting that?  Probably, but seriously... you can't buy that level of honesty.  I feel for the individuals who choose this line of work.  More over, the individuals that choose to work on MY fingers. 

Personally I consider myself quite the challenge to nail technicians.  I'm the first to admit that my finger nails are not the easiest to make pretty, look dainty and appear manicured.  This is sadly due to my disgusting habit of biting my fingers.  Not my nails, just my fingers.  While most technicians are faced with a broken nail, a re-polish, or filing and buffing... once in a while there's the challenging customer - ME.  I traipse into the salon (la la la la), whistling, all happy that they are going to magically transform my hands into something akin to Hollywood fingertips.  You see, my fingers constantly look like I have had a rabid badger as my personal nail consultant who's been chewing on them as a snack for a year.  Hang nails everywhere, dry skin from the face products I use, and broken flaky nails matching the broken flaky nail polish.  The broken flaky nail polish is usually the only remaining proof that I have ever received a manicure in the entire span of my lifetime.  This information I of course use when the nail technician is looking at me with that disgusting awe on their face that I can actually walk around with nails like this in public.

"See?", I retort to the look, "...this nail polish is from the last manicure that I received!"
You can imagine what the poor person who brings my sad act over to their nail table thinks as soon as they see my fingers. 

Usually I'm met with, "Oh wow... you shouldn't CHEW your fingers!?!?  That's SO BAD." 
To which I always reply (smiling kindly), "Yes, I know... it's a bad habit I can't seem to stop doing.  I don't expect you to make them look perfect, just better than they do now." 

As I'm typing this, I'm realizing that perhaps it's my advance offer of low expectations that gives the allowance to under perform the task at hand.  Since I've already put it out there that I don't expect miracles, miracles are not even attempted.  Look, my nails at the end of the session look really great.  Certainly I'm not suggesting anything other than that.  It is, however, very difficult to shell out the 50-70 bucks for a Mani-Pedi and one day later the rabid badger look is back.  Only on my fingers though.  Maybe I should start chewing on my toes too to match the rabid animal gnawing look I have going on.  At least I would be symmetrical and appear balanced in my imbalance.  Sadly I fear I am left with the same depressing situation.  Only showing my face at the nail salon twice a year at best, looking all ragged and torn, and chewed by rabid animals as if I had been lost in the forest and only just now emerged to get my nails done. 

Hmmm.... dilemma's, dilemma's.

I can do EVERYTHING

I am a freak of nature, a superhero.
I am a goddess.
I can deal with days on end of blood curdling screaming babies vomiting black tar - WITHOUT A FLINCH!
I can do dishes THE SIZE OF KILIMANJARO in one second!
I can take out the maggot filled garbage cans - without one gag or bead of sweat!
I can transfer funds, email, pay bills, and pee all at the same time and in 30 seconds!! 
I can manage the whole house, AND handle all the corporate crap because I'M SO AWESOME!
I can cook meals for EVERYONE... my family, the neighborhood, ALL OF AFRICA!
I can drive the kids all over the entire friggin' world in a nanosecond!
I can do 85 million laundry piles BY JUST BLINKING MY EYES!!!
I can bake muffins entirely by telekinesis!
I can bend the will of strangers to INSTANTLY EMPATHIZE with screaming kids!
I can eliminate global warming by one exhale of my magic ozone fixing breath!
I can light candles with my finger tips because I'm so fast I'M ON FIRE! 
My urine is made of 150% Colombian espresso!!
I can make rainbows shoot out of my butt!
I can multitask so fast I create TORNADOES from the sheer speed of my movement!
I can make soft serve ice cream FROM MY TEAR DUCTS!
I can GLANCE at a book and instantly absorb it THROUGH OSMOSIS!!!
I can heal multiple compound fractures WITH A KISS!
I can part the SEA with a wave of my fancy hand - ON COMMAND!

I am a MOM...
Stand back and squint, lest my amazing power of sheer awesomeness blind you.

Seagull Managers - Part II

If you don't understand the above reference, it's basically this:

Sass holes (in this statement it's Managers) who swoop down out of nowhere, make a lot of noise, dump a lot of poop on you, and fly away.  Although the title suggests Management, this can obviously be used to describe quite a few people in life.  In my case there are seagull people who hover around my butt constantly (I'm being VERY generic here).  The main point in referencing this type of person, is the almost immediate reaction of anger and hatred towards this being for either the poop (or in my case the judgment) they are throwing at you.

So, I decided to scrap my last post about this subject, because well, I have a conscience.  I think in my never ending need to write ambiguously, I may have indeed been too generic and possibly offended many people without intending to (for further explanation about my inappropriateness please see my post: Foot In Mouth Disease).  I really was just sort of *irritated* at one particular *individual* (er-a certain man in my life), and I was ranting about their incessant need to point out that my site needs an editor and/or that I need to get better at checking my own grammar. Not only has there been remarks about my need for grammar, but also to the effect of the quality of my writing, and the subjects not being more realistic and thereby not funny.  So as you can imagine... I'm a little perturbed, sensitive, and *irritated* about the constant reminders.  This below letter goes for those pedantic blog squatters too.  Poo on you.

Dear Individual who perturbed me so:

I don't mean to be rude, but here's the down low...
Seriously, I BARELY have time to pee by myself let alone edit my posts.  In my infinitely rambling mind it's a damn miracle that I actually get these thoughts translated from the babble in my head to a language others can understand, and then even posted AT ALL.  So, you can take your pestering attitude towards my writing style and grammar errors and place it ever so gently where the sun doesn't shine... eh-em please, and thank you.

If and when I get around to fixing my English grammar, then I will do so.  Really, thank you SO MUCH for your consideration and feedback... but there's like a 99.999999% positive chance that I am well aware of the problems on my page before you tell me about them.  I just don't have endless screw off time to fix it.  In case you haven't read it - I have two living beings that are solely dependant on my ability to nourish them, wipe their butts and clothe them... so that is sort of my priority right now.  Not editing my posts.

Thanks,
Abbie


That being said, if you are an editor or a writer and you actually do this for a living (and/ or I have already spoken to you about this - you are not the subject of this rant) and can help me out of the kindness of your heart then fantastic!  Please, please, please, help.  Alternatively, if you are a pedantic Internet blog squatter and just want to offer your unsolicited boring advice to make me feel insecure, then you can bite me.