For the last month and a half, I’ve been sick. Not the norm for me type sick; the mentally unstable, liable to snap at any moment sick. I’m talking tissue and copious amounts of over-the-counter medications improperly administered. Truth be told, I’m still on the mend. It’s all good. I have enough antibiotics coursing through my body right now that I’m indiscriminately killing all the flora and fauna in my system. I am literally where things come to die.
After living in pajamas and being nearly surgically attached to my sofa for four days I decided enough was enough; I was going to improperly take more medication. Medication that didn’t even belong to me.
I hate going to the doctor and after being misdiagnosed and spending $146 at Kaiser the last time, I decided they fucking suck and don’t deserve to be honored with my presence or my hard-earned cash. Suck a dick! Luckily my husband stashed some antibiotics from his last go ‘round with a nasty orbital abscess, so it looked like I was gonna kick this sickness in the taint without having to step foot in the germ breeding ground that is the waiting room of my doctor’s office.
After a couple days of being on horse pills, I was starting to feel better. In fact, I was feeling human enough that I decided to go get my nails done. Before you get all self-righteous about how I’m now putting others in jeopardy, just shut the hell up. I wasn’t contagious anymore. I’m a better human being than to risk possibly infecting others with an unknown virus. I don’t do anything half-assed. I make sure I’m all in. I’ll lick your phone receiver and sneeze in your eyes to make certain that the job is done correctly. Oh, and fuck you very much.
Back to my nails, because this is where it gets glorious.
I’m sitting in the chair while Daisy [Daisy is a Vietnamese name??] is doing my nails. We’re having a broken conversation about the Apple Watch and whether I think it would benefit her husband who apparently has clogged arteries. She seems to want to monitor his heart rate and thinks the watch will help with his overall health. At least, that’s what I’m able to gather. I don’t have the heart [no pun intended…really] to tell her that if his heart rate is 184 while walking there isn’t much the watch is going to do to fix that shit. Maybe he should work on diet and exercise. Communication is difficult though – language barriers being what they are. I feel for her. I smile and nod and tell her I love my watch. I hate this fucking thing. It’s always yelling at me to stand up and breathe. Fuck off, I do what I want.
At one point in the conversation though I notice that she’s broken off and is staring at the manager [male] who sits up front watching his iPad. Her jaw has dropped, and she looks pissed! She gets up, walks over to him and quietly scorns him in Vietnamese. Shortly after, Michael [manager] gets up with his iPad and walks to the back of the salon, out of sight and doesn’t return. Now, there is no one covering the counter to handle walk-in clients or answer the phone. Daisy is pissed and she’s quietly talking to the other girls in the salon.
I, of course, can’t make out what they’re saying but I don’t really need to. One needn’t speak Vietnamese to understand that Daisy removed the manager because he was watching something inappropriate on his little iPad. She’s now walking around the salon whispering to other women, rolling her eyes, and making hushed moaning sounds. Then, with a disgusted look on her face, she points to the back of the salon like she’s ordering a dog to its “place” and makes more moaning sounds. It’s like a mini porno in the nail salon. 6 Vietnamese women are snickering while my nail chick is moaning and I’m watching the whole thing unfold in awe. This is fucking fantastic.
Daisy finally calms down and seats herself across from me. She picks right back up talking about the Apple Watch and where to get it – asking about price and telling me about the other watches she’s gotten her husband in the past. She tells me about what a great man he is and the phone he purchased her for her birthday. Daisy, can I just say: I don’t give a flying fuck about your phone. Can we talk about the manager watching porn during business hours and on-site?? That is amazingly bold! Do you think he has a sex addiction? Doesn’t his wife work here too? Where is she and do you think she knows? Oh my God, she’s gonna tear him a new asshole, isn’t she?
I am never getting my nails done elsewhere and from now, going out of my way to make uncomfortable eye contact with Michael every opportunity I get. Best reintroduction to society ever! Thanks, local nail salon – 5 stars!
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