On occasion I indulge in a little, well, indulgence, by visiting my local nail salon, OK Nails. Yes, I know, they don't exactly set the bar too high with that name. But it's cheap and you don't need an appointment so it's all good.
And yes, this is the same nail salon that plied Bev and I with cheap pink wine and painted flowers on as many nails as they could before we slurrily protested (after all, they're only $4 more).
Over the years I've learned to just get a pedicure when asked, otherwise this is the ensuing conversation:
OK - What I do for you, baby?
Me - Manicure please.
OK - you want pedicure too?
Me - (it's middle of winter, even I don't see my toes, never mind anyone else). No thank you.
OK - Why you no want pedicure? (all the other nail techs now stop and stare).
Me - Ummmm, I just don't. But thanks.
OK - Ohhhhh, you no have a boyfriend, baby?
Me - What?
OK - Why you no have boyfriend?
Me - Ummmm, I...I'm married.. What does that have to do with...
OK - Ohhhh, you no have boyfriend. You have pedicure, you get boyfriend, baby.
Me - I'm not sure my husband would appreciate that.
OK - Ohhhhhh, you afraid.
Me - Of a pedicure?
OK - You get nice boyfriend.
Me - *sigh* fine. I'll take a pedicure. Where's my crappy pink wine?
This lady has obviously visited OK Nail's sister shop.