I remember Dat Phan, in the first season of Last Comic Standing, saying that the Vietnamese were taking over the U.S. one nail salon at a time. Well, they’ve got my hometown.
Last night I made arrangements for my two daughters and me to meet for a manicure night out. Just the three of us, along with a few ninjas in white masks twirling nail files between their fingers looking like they could do serious damage to a cuticle.
I have problems understanding accents. My brother mumbles and I can’t understand him either. To be polite, I always smile and nod. I have no idea what I agree to whenever I talk to my brother. Obviously, I did not understand much last night either. I wondered why the manicurist so graciously threw in a massage and smeared my feet with a hydrating gel. I thought she was empathetic of raising two strong willed girls with rough heels. By the time we got up from our manicures, pedicures, and more-than-a-few extras, nodding and smiling to everything said, we’d accumulated a bill of over one hundred dollars. I never realized agreeable could be so expensive.
“Why’d you pick out nail color that looks like cotton candy?” the GAP asked, looking at my hands.
“I didn’t pick it out,” I answered. “I thought she said something about a circus and I just mentioned cotton candy.”
Well, at least I got a little pair of orange flip flops free. Or I think they were free.
Can you put a price tag on bonding? Where else could I have heard that Coco’s boyfriend gave her a birthday cake covered in frosted bugs. “Really big ones!” she excitedly told us. What more could a horticulturist want? Other than pretty nails, smooth heels, and a night out with the girls.
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Did she eat the bugs?
Sounds like daughters would be nice. I’d settle for nice daughter-inlaws.