So yesterday I got a manicure at a salon that I don’t frequently visit. It is hard to get to, and I’m not crazy about the staff. I went with my mom once upon a time and as we were getting our nails done side by side, one of the manicurists told me I was beautiful, and then asked if I was my mother’s daughter. After replying yes, she turned back to me and said, “you must look like your father.” Needless to say my mother was utterly insulted(rightly so), and now hates the place. What the h-e-double hockey sticks was that?
So yesterday the man who owns the salon was creeping around while I was drying, and he told me that I looked like the Virgin Mary. I definitely heard Giselle at first, but then he went and picked up a magazine to show me what he meant and it was totally a Chinese psalm book with one of those paintings from the Renaissance era of the Mother Mary on the front. It looked a little something like this:
I felt a little weird about it so I thanked him and immediately left, feeling like I needed to do a good deed right away like twirl around a child or carry an elderly person across the street. I didn’t do anything good.
But instead I went right home (I don’t remember the drive ,so it must have been a zoned out haze of a drive) and made baked mashed potatoes/sweet potatoes with expired parmesan cheese. No, I didn’t mean to add the old cheese. I was just
drunk not paying attention. So either karma is a bitch or I suck at cooking. As far-fetched as it sounds in this scenario, I’m going to go with the former.
I am a GREAT cook. And a great everything else. You can read more about greatness on My Vanity page. Here’s a dramatic picture of me pondering deep thoughts with my new super cute mani!: