Archive for September 4th, 2007

Can’t a girl just get a pedicure anymore?

A long time ago someone called me a JAP: Jewish American Princess, which I’m still wondering if this word is considered offensive. Anyway, I’m not Jewish. That is unless I’m related to Sammy Davis, Jr. I think the person felt as if I kept up an image conscious routine which is a nice way for me to just say “high maintenance.” I’m really not though. Really! I just like to take care of myself and many moons ago I used to do the whole thing: acrylic nails, pedicures, weekly eyebrow wax…

I’ve since been more frugal and practical by doing my own nails. They never were bad to begin with but acrylics were so much easier to take care of. The eyebrow stuff I still do but now I take things into my own hands more often so I don’t have to shell out the dough for someone to put me through that pain. But ah. Pedicures. This has been a hard one. First of all I would have never stopped pedicures if it wasn’t for the local news. Beware, this picture is gross.



You see because many local nail shops can’t seem to NOT be nasty, refuse to disinfect regularly and aren’t so great about keeping things up to health code standards, the above infection could happen to me — so I’ve told myself. And it just so happens that my FAVORITE shop was dinged for not being up to code so that stopped me in my tracks. Now I go on “recommendations.” My latest stop at a recommended nail salon proved to be an ironic fruitful failure. They did do their share of keeping up the code as far as using plastic lined basins instead of the spa chairs for pedicures — notorious for their breeding ground for infection.

However I couldn’t get past the other stuff: the floor looked kinda like it hadn’t been mopped in several days, the worn lazy boy chairs looked like someone’s grandmother’s house, they reused paraffin wax  and my manicure was less than “clean.” But the pedicure seemed kosher and my toes were somewhat happy. However they didn’t do as good of a job as my OLD place. So now it’s time for another one and as of late I just resort to doing it myself and ignore the recommendations. I am too afraid for what can result from going to a local spa for a pedicure on the fly. But damn I hate doing it myself.

You may bet thinking that this is all superficial. And some of you may say why should any of this matter to your readers who aren’t women? Well because we all know how you guys like a put together woman and with summer not quite yet over, I’m sure you would like to see more feet in good condition as oppose to this:

Did someone say pumice stone, please?!

Feet of Crafty McGee. Sorry girl but I gotta give you credit for the honesty.

Is 30 the new adolescence?

As I’m sitting here typing this, I am on somewhat of a “vacation.” I decided to take another day off after Labor Day but most of what I’ve done today has been work related, splash in a little wine, playing with the cat and a lot of blogging. I don’t know why I’ve felt like musing so much these past few days but one thing came to mind. I feel like I’m going through the first stages of a new self-discovery. I will spare you any flowery inspirational quotes and strange optimistim — I’m fresh out.

The way I see it I’ve had at least two major phases of my life. The first being the one we all go through — adolescence. The second for me in my early and mid 20s was quite explorative. I’ll leave it at that but I will say there were a few trips to Cancun involved, two “engagements” and an interesting stint as a cocktail waitress. Not necessarily in that order.

Now as I’m fumbling towards 30 years old, I can say I’ve recently had an overt amount of growth and loss to go along with it. Friends have faded or have been neglected for all the right reasons and some cut ties with much fervor. More resposibilities are in my lap and my time is not always my own. I found that I have become increasingly opposite of who I was even last year. But what is funny about all this is that it feels like how it did that first day of high school. All the jitters. All of the excitement. And a lot of headaches. Trying to find where you fit and who you fit with — yea, that sounds about right. Then deciding it didn’t matter afterall. Learning new things about yourself, new interests and the things that make you happy. That was adolescence and it’s me now.

So what does it all add up to? Is it just stinted growth or is 30 like embracing your early teens. Is it like when you first got your damned period. When your jewels finally dropped. When you first noticed hair — down there. Is this all a new beginning? Or is it just the wine?

Trapped in the closet…

Say it ain’t so.

My favorite channel on the planet IFC is going to air all 20 something parts of R Kelly’s “Trapped in the Closet” saga on Friday. And yes I know it’s R. Kelly. I just hate how that looks for some reason. It looks too, I dunno, important. Anyway. OK, I am a fan of the kooky and sexually charged John Waters films they show on Grindhouse Fridays. And I think maybe it’s the tongue and cheek attitude of IFC that I love the most. But really? R Kelly? Well, it is amusing. I mean all kinds of people are in the closet — a husband, a midget (I mean little person but the video says midget), gay love, all kinds of phones ringing, R Kelly hitting strange pitches in his singing, a bad green screen effect of R Kelly driving and a “sex” scene with his clothes still on.

 OK, OK. I guess I probably will actually watch it…

Here’s an oldie but goodie: The first five parts.

I’m going to admit this is great cinema. I mean, R Kelly still hangs around after the husband comes home and is still there when the male lover comes in. And why does R Kelly have to keep waving the gun around and then keep using his stupid phone? However, Mr. Kelly may deserve an Oscar for playing like 50 parts of this saga — even the chick parts. Who needs Eddie Murphy?

I feel dirty for setting the reminder on my IFC program schedule.