spirit fingers

in order to fully expose the object of my disdain this morning i must first humble myself. i was in a nail salon. in my defense i'll state that it is probably the second, maybe third time in my life that i've ever gotten a professional manicure and this time only because i found a coupon. there, i said it.

so i was sitting at the table and my vietnamese buddy was clipping away at my cuticles while we tried to have a partial conversation in broken english (why is it that our dictation standards plummet when we're talking to someone whose 1st language isn't the same as ours? maybe its just me) when the front door opens. in walks medusa in the flesh. dyed straw-like hair cropped and feathered in the hopes of taking the focus off her face. her face, painted in a gaudy rendition of a picasso complete with darkly outlined lips filled in with an entirely different shade. i wasn't sure if she started with goth and changed her mind half-way or just really wanted us to see where her lips used to be about 35 years ago. everyone in the shop turned to greet her warmly. i don't know if i hid the horror on my face or not. one of the ladies politely asked what she needed done. she immediately held up her hands, palms in, fingers spread, and barked one word. "Nails." whatever she was trying to be or not, Highlands Ranchero was one of them. a bustle of activity ensued which included my vietnamese friend leaving my hands in warm soapy water and attending to her. i was passed off to a less trained, but just as friendly manicurist. she spoke maybe 15 more words than her predecessor but definitely didn't have the gift and i realized right then and there i was going to have to buy some acetone and fix them when i got home. i wanted to say, "hey, i was here first" or something equally as childish but instead began to ponder the idea that maybe india isn't the only country with a caste system.