Having one of those Fridays. No, not one of those Freaky ones where my mother and I woke up, finding ourselves in each other’s respective bodies, but just one of those..”oh my god there is all of this stuff that I haven’t gotten done from the whole week, BUT it’s Friday so I’m going to go get a pedicure and have lunch with my husband” ones. And check out a pair of shoes on the internet, OH, and blog about it. But seriously, one of the things on my list for this week, well, every week is to blog twice, so this does, technically, count as being productive. Even if I’m not getting paid for it. Hell, most of what I do in my life is un-paid (unless you count living in a nice house, taking nice vacations and a budget for the occasional pair of shoes on the internet), so I think I need a new definition of productivity anyway.
SO, I walked into my local pedicure spot (ok, I’m not really launching into a joke here, but ooh, I wish I had time to think one up), your basic Vietnamese-run, white walled joint with the tacky picture of the pink fingernail with a rhinestone flower, complete with the hand-written poster-board price list. I state my intentions (pedicure only), document that I’m there by signing in, and pick my color. A Oui Bit of Red caught my eye today. Besides just being in DIRE need of a pedicure (I know, this always sounds really spoiled, but really, if you know me or my feet, you know that regular professional treatment is really more of a courtesy to society than a moment of pampering for me, but I’ll take it as such anyway), I also had been wondering recently if I could have left my latest book club book there the last time I was in. The book is Bossypants by Tina Fey (btw, Michelle, if you are reading this – sorry, I left your book at the pedicure place, but read on, we got it back). If you haven’t seen it, there is a disturbing picture of her on the front where she’s looking all cute and Tina Fey-ish (or is that Sarah Palin-ish?), but she’s got big hairy man arms. It’s disturbing on even a subconscious level because your eyes are really drawn to her face, but at the same time you are looking into her big brown eyes with beautifully shaped brows, you notice this creep of a nauseous feeling entering the pit of your stomach. You are not sure why the image of Tina Fey is arousing the desire to run to the toilet, and then you realize….ah, big fat hairy man-arms. That will do it every time.
Alas, I inquired about the book and its potential for being there and that it would have been there for a couple of weeks, if, in fact, it has been. Several women furrowed their brows or shook their heads either because they didn’t know or they didn’t understand my babble. One woman came scurrying out of nowhere to look for it in a cupboard under their front desk. She pulled a book out, a look of disgust on her snarled lip, “is it this one?” she asked.
“Yes!” I shouted much too enthusiastically, like she had perhaps found, not a book with questionable gender-identity, but my lost cat or my wedding ring. I was just so pleased to have found the book that I had borrowed and was a bit upset with myself for having lost, which meant I was going to have to go buy a replacement book that I wasn’t even going to be able to keep. (deep breath) AND ANYWAY, she handed me the book, snarled lip still standing, and then looked at ME with the same air of revulsion. Like, “these American woman and their strange reading habits about women who look like men who look like women.” OK, I have no idea what she was thinking, but it wasn’t kind, that much I can say with reasonable certainty. I was, however, pleased to, both, get my book back AND to be able to remove the distasteful piece of filth from this woman’s space, where it clearly wasn’t welcome. I kinda wanted to say something, like, “I realize my reading habits don’t appear to be of the intellectual variety that you espouse through your selection of fine-writing periodicals such as People, Us and Star. I will do better next time,” But of course, I did not because I didn’t care nearly enough. I did, however, sit down, eager and delighted , like when I was 8 and the long-awaited JCPenney Christmas catalog finally arrived, and buried my head in Bossypants for a few good, cheap laughs and some shiny new publicly-presentable toes. TGIF. Now for next week’s schedule…