Friday, June 13, 2014

It's Like A Tattoo, Except Not Really

Yesterday was a big day.  I got my very first pedicure.  Ever.  Of my whole life.  I'm 31 years old, by the way.  I had made it a goal for this summer to get a pedicure on account of the fact that I was pretty much the only person in my age-group, and possibly the planet, who had never been pedicured before. (I should probably explain here, that I had never gotten a pedicure until yesterday because I was completely terrified of it, and was sure that my feet would be all cut up and hurt, and then I'd be all, my nails are beautiful, but you can't tell on account of all the bandages and blood).  And so my aunt was all don't worry, I'll make an appointment for you with my pedicure lady, and she did, and so it happened.  

It was pretty awesome when it was all said and done, but I think I was seriously missing some pedicure etiquette or something like that, because it was kind of an awkward experience, and the lady was looking at me like I was completely stupid until I told her that I had never gotten a pedicure before, and she was all ohhhhhh, ok, no worries then, have a seat.

And I stood there.  Like an idiot.  Because I had no idea how to get in the chair.  It's not like a normal chair, yo.  There's a plate on the arm rest, and a bowl for your feet to cook in, and I kept looking all around the chair for some sort of step, or footplate, or some sort of sign that said, "GET IN THE CHAIR LIKE THIS, DUMBASS".  But there wasn't one, so I had to look and the lady, and she was all, wow. you really haven't done this before. ok, get in the chair like this.  She didn't call me a dumbass, but I figured it was implied.

After I got myself situated in the chair of clusterfuckness, I was told about the massage feature, and the lady said, ok, look, you can adjust it with these buttons here, however you want it.  some people like the massage chair, some people don't.  it's up to you, but let's try.  And she turned it on, and the back and the sides of the chair started to expand and contract and started to suck me into the material, and it was like a total sensory overload, and I FLIPPED THE FUCK OUT.  And the lady was super calm and was all, ok. we'll just turn the chair off for this one.  And I was like, holy shit, that was a close call, thank you for not suffocating me with this chair of hideousness. 

And then I was supposed to put my feet in the bowl to get boiled, which is apparently normal, but I was hesitant because I don't really think that feet should ever get boiled.  And I was all, uh, is this safe? because I really need my feet for, you know, walking and general movement kind of purposes.  And the lady was like, yes, it's safe. we're gonna soak your feet, not cook them.  Again, she was too nice to call me a dumbass, but I figured it was implied.

Anyway, when I finally did get my feet soaked and massaged by water jets of awesomeness, it was fucking glorious, and I was all, sweet baby Jesus, WHY have I never done this before?!  And just as I was starting to relax, the lady opened up a box full of mysteries, and pulled out more metal instruments than the fucking dentist.  And my brain was all, shit. that's how they do this. they trick you with the water jets, and then pull out the instruments of torture, and you're screwed because you can't move because the chair is closed around you, and your feet are in a bowl of slipperiness that'll break your face as you fall while trying to escape.  And as I faced the inevitable, I looked at the chair of entrapment like, well played, asshole.  well played.

But as it turned out, the tools were for beautifying, not torturing, and that shit didn't hurt a bit.  The lady did ask why my nails were so short, and I explained that I had cut them myself the day before because I didn't know if that was part of the pedicure process.  And she smiled, and said, yes. yes it is.  I can take care of that for you next time.  And again, she was too nice to call me a dumbass, but I figured it was implied.

So, a file and a sugar scrub later, shit was finally normal again, and I picked the polish, and it was done.  And it was awesome.  My younger cousin was right -- once you get one pedicure, you're gonna be hooked.  I kind of equate it to a tattoo, that way.  Except my tattoo was painful, and there are no water jets of awesomeness at that place.

These are my toes.  They didn't get boiled. 

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

You're A Real Motherfucker, Candy Crush

I stopped playing Candy Crush a few months ago.  Actually ... a LOT of months ago.  And I kind of forgot why, so I opened up the app today to play a round, and it took me all of 3 minutes to remember that the game is an asshole that wants to steal my joy.  And possibly murder puppies and Santa Claus.

Here's how the shit went down ....

Here we go! ... Some candy crushin' bout to start in here.
Ohhhh.  That's the level that I left on.
Fuuuuuccckkkk.  Yeah, I remember this level now.
Sonofabitch, with the stripes.  Dammitt!! I forgot that I needed a million of the stupid stripes!
Aaaarrrggghhh!!!!!   I ran out of moves!
Shit.  Try again.
Shit.  Try again.
Shit.  Try again.
Shit.  Try again.
Ok, it's gonna happen this time.  It's gotta happen.
What the shit, Candy Crush?  Why are you making stripes impossible?
Fuck you, bombs!  I don't need bombs!  I. NEED. STRIPES.
Holy shit!  I only need one more!!!!
One more, bitch!  Ha!  Who's the dumbass now, Candy Crush?!
The fuck?  No.  Why is it over?  I only needed one more.  I didn't get it yet.  This shouldn't be over yet.
What the hell just happened?
Oh, here it is.  
Zero moves left.  One stripe to go.
Shit.  Try again.
      (Time to next life:  16:37)
You're a real motherfucker, Candy Crush.