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9:17 a.m. - 2005-11-15
If You Really Don't Understand the Language, Talking Louder Is Just Annoying.
So last night, I’m at my nail place, right? And of course, said nail place is located within the Evil Empire. Fortunately, it was totally empty, which means that I got right in. Not too far behind me was an older woman. She had platinum hair twisted up. She had a fake and bake tan.
And she was one of the most annoying human beings I have encountered in quite some time (outside of work, that is.)

The employees of the nail salon are all Vietnamese. They understand English, but not all of them speak it well. However, you have to know that most of them must have some intelligence, because really, I know if I were dumped in the middle of a foreign country, I would probably be doing well to be washing dishes, and they have learned a profession that requires licensure.

Anyway, Ms. Bitchy has this voice like fingernails on a chalkboard, and she’s talking really loud. And over-enunciating. And generally being a patronizing asstard. I’m at the station behind her, and the girl doing my nails and I keep rolling our eyes at one another and trying not to laugh. Finally, when she gets done, she asks the nail tech to walk her out to the parking lot.

Eh?

SmallFart has security guards. They have greeters. They have about 80 bazillion employees. Not to mention, this chick is no delicate flower, and is probably about 3 inches taller and 20 pounds heavier than the guy doing her nails. He manages to convey to her that she should ask someone else, and then comes back in and we all crack the hell up and start teasing him about his “girlfriend.”

The bitch COMES BACK.

She says that the employee couldn’t walk her out. So the poor nail dude has to do it. When he gets back, he tells us that, if the ho shows up again…he doesn’t work there.


Well, after I get done with the nails, I decide to venture into the Evil Empire to purchase a few groceries, and some PJ pants (they’re very cute…flannel with stripes in green and blue), and some gloves (because I can never keep track of the fucking things for longer than a winter), and some hair products, and all the other bullshit that Small-Fart has to offer.

My fellow shoppers, however, all seemed to have taken their cranky pills. I saw all kinds of couple-type altercations.

I also saw a really hot guy in line at the checkout. His face was kind of icky, but damn, his body? Dude. BEEFCAKE!! BEEEEEFFCAAAKE!

The cashier was actually nice to me. Probably because she was still drooling over his biceps too.


Until last week, I was being all good with the whole gym thing. Then, last Monday was a trial in Tulsa, Tuesday was a concert, Wednesday I was dead ass tired…but on Thursday, even though I was still tired, I decided I must go to the gym.

And the fucking place is half closed for remodeling. Until TUESDAY. Super. So tonight, my jiggly butt is going, and then going home to watch The Biggest Loser, so my momentum/motivation can be regained in short order.

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

 

 

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