Needing a professional, I tossed a couple of dog treats to Annabelle and Lucy so they wouldn’t eat a book, and drove to the nail salon for the works. All my little Vietnamese friends were thrilled to see me – no one else was there at 10:30 am. Everyone had jobs.
One of my favorite parts of the experience is picking a new toe color. There is an entire wall of polishes arranged in rainbow fashion with like colors grouped together. The color itself is important, yet secondary – I choose based on the name of the polish. If the color doesn’t have a cool name, I’m not gonna wear it. I can’t walk around for weeks with toes named “Getting Miss Piggy With It” or “I Eat Mainly Lobster”. This is just like choosing a horse at Oak Lawn. First the name of the horse, then the color. I always bet on a gray house, unless it has an unfortunate name. Bad name. Bad karma. Wasted two bucks.
I only do browns, cherry and blue/greens (polish not horses), but only if the name speaks to me. If the bottom of the polish has lost the label and I can’t identify the name of the color – I pass. I had been wearing Rosey Mistletoe’sies pretty much since Christmas – it was time for a change. After careful consideration, for my toes I selected “Do You Think I’m Tex-y” from the new Texas Collection. It spoke to me. But only for my toes. I keep my fingernails au natural. I’m predictable that way. I like my fried chicken plain.
I sat in the big spa chair with my feet in the hot water and prepared to relax. I was plugged into my favorite tunes to drown out the odd Vietnamese instrumental renditions of Moon River and Deep Purple that played over and over – with a random Christmas song thrown in. I’d rather listen to my own odd assortment of songs… This was my chance to catch up on Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher’s split. My favorite nail lady, Na, was attending to my feet. A lady I didn’t know (or maybe I just didn’t recognize her?) came over to address my nails. Hmmmm, interesting outfit to say the least. Was she hiding from the law? I should definitely watch America’s Most Wanted just to make sure… Maybe she was from another planet. I do think it’s a possibility. As she studied my nails, I studied her. On this beautiful, warm, 60 degree February day, she was smothered head to toe in strangeness.
“What this?” she barked, pointing to my hand. Oh, I still had duct tape on my warty thing. I ripped it off – ouch – and dipped my fingertips back into the water. She looked at the thing on my hand, shook her head as if thinking, “I not believe these white people”. It wasn’t that bad. I wanted to say, “What’s this?” and wave my fried chicken hand the length of her entire ensemble. But of course, I didn’t. I hold these thoughts in, to later spew forth into cyberspace. Sparkly black beanie, beige turtle neck sweater underneath a thick second pink sweater with pink furry collar(!) underneath a white lab coat. And odd yellow reading glasses perched on her pointy nose like an exclamation. She had to be percolating under all those layers! Her face was flushed, especially her nose. I studied her. Oh great! She was sick! Bird flu or something which would be passed to me.
“Are you sick?” I asked. She did not respond. I knew she heard me. She acted like she couldn’t speak English. “ARE. YOU. SICK?” I asked again a bit louder and more slowly in case she couldn’t hear through that beanie on her head. “No. Not sick.” She replied. “Allergy.” Hmmmm, I was skeptical. I should have never asked because suddenly the floodgates opened. “My father in Vietnam have allergy. My nose run and run and run. It horrible. It not stop. I up all night. My nose run.” Oh God.
The allergy lady dipped my hands in paraffin wax and then wrapped my arms to the elbows in towels. I had flashbacks of my recent facial. Typically I pass on the paraffin, but maybe this would help my wart thingy. As soon as my hands were all bound and tied, my nose itched like crazy. Oh great this would drive me nuts! This was ruining the whole relaxing experience. I tried to rub my nose with my huge hand which was now brining in paraffin, but couldn’t adequately maneuver. Allergy lady glared at me over those yellow glasses, looking perturbed. “What you do?” “My nose is itching – I’m trying to scratch it,” I whine. Without warning, she reached up and swiped my nose with her bird flu hand!!!!! I flinched and accidentally kicked Na who was massaging my feet. This immediately set off an incessant chatter of choppy Vietnamese. You know what I mean – we’ve all heard it before. A customer does something that doesn’t sit right and off they go on a rant. The customers have no idea what’s being said, but we all know it’s about us! Great, I’d done it now. I’d have to find a new nail salon.
After the paraffin wax treatment, my bump thingy was still there of course, but now it was pink and glowing. Still, I felt better. Fresh toes always make a girl feel better.
talya
Musical Pairings:
Oh.my.gosh Talya! You could be describing me!! timed typing tests, polish colors based on names and all … tooooo funny!
Hahaha!! You will need to find a new salon! Too funny! I haven’t had my toes done since November; I think they are about to fall off. Do you think they have the Texas collection in Colorado?!? 🙂
Oh my sweet Jesus! ROLLING!!! Yes, we have all heard the rants! We are so much alike, from typing fast, choosing the nail color to passing on the paraffin! The last time I went to the salon, it was a new guy. The new ones always ask “what hoppen to your leg?”. His response to my answer was, “what a big, fat OLD lady like you doin goin down firepole?”. I just looked at him in shock while looking at the lady next to me who also was stunned and had her mouth still open! I proceeded to explain to him that he was presently in a very vulnerable position (near my feet) and if it were someone else with not so good of humor as me – it could have been BAD for him. Oh yeah, and I told him this big, fat OLD lady would not be leaving her customary (VERY generous tip) on this day – then the choppy, animated chattering in Vietanmese began! The lady in the other chair reached over a gave me a ‘high five’! But now I have to find yet another NEW place to go to get my nails done…oh well – maybe they won’t be as verbally abusive!
I can’t believe he would say that! Rude! But your story made me laugh:)
I couldn’t believe it either! And another thing…WHY do they always look at our nails and shake their heads in disgust? They are usually the last person who touched them! LoL
If you hadn’t posted the pic, I wouldn’t have beleived you (with all that writer’s embellishment)! Too Funny!
All true! It was the oddest outfit.
OMG!! I would so have loved to have been with you….we probably would have been arrested…or killed!! I just can’t wait to get on here and see your blogs…they make me smile! Love ya!!!
hahahaha…..this is too funny Talya and the picture made my night. My daughter would say she’s not wearing an outfit….she’s wearing a get-up…hahahaha. I wanted to check with you to see if your ears were burning earlier tonight since your name came up during dinner. My husband and I ate at the Country Club (I’m afraid we do this often since I gave up cooking years ago for Lent) and our neighbor and I were talking about your blog and how you have this amazing talent. Thanks again for sharing….please keep writing!!!
Mrs. Byford, oh how I remember her. Funny how this new generation grows up with a keypad in their hand. Your stories are great & funny & the comments from Cindy are just as funny. I now have a smile and my day will be good.
Thanks Angi! Haven’t heard from you in 30 years…! Thanks for reading:)
I think its more than 30, but we can leave it at 30. Ha. Love all your stories and the Experiment Station, well I never ran for Coach Graham as a basketball player but we did have to run laps around the football field and the trips to the Experiment Station was chopping cotton all summer with other Employee teenagers. Blaghhhhh
After getting married, I remember your Dad always like clockwork driving down Cat Alley gravel road, turning on Shorty’s road checking on his crops. Great farmer he was and is still talked about today, cause if anybody knew how to farm gumbo dirt, it was your dad. Farmers talk about him every year to me & I’m proud to have known him & his sweet family.
I forgot to mention that, while I cannot remember my HS typing teacher’s name, I will never forget following along with her “arra, arra, arra, space” as she got us used to the R on the keyboard!