YUCK!!!

I detest the feeling of nail polish, but that’s not why I hate getting my nails done. I hate getting my nails done for the same reason I hate haircuts — it involves sitting in a chair making forced conversation while someone else “beautifies” you for what seems like a really long time. I now have a new reason: it’s DISGUSTING.

But this afternoon, when I heard that the new “salon” in Mendon was quick, I figured it’d be perfect for a French manicure to help prep for tonight’s event. I should have remembered IT’S MENDON.

I walked in, and sure enough the man working there could take me. (I’m starting to feel sick to my stomach event recounting this story, so I’ll just get to the point.)

You know how usually at nail places, they clean nail polish out from under your nails with a long, toothpick-like stick, a swab of cotton fluff, and some pink liquid stuff?

Well…

In Mendon, the guy has kept all his fingernails nice and trim, except for his thumb — which he’s grown out for just this purpose.

YUCK YUCK YUCK YUCK

He touched my thumb and I changed my mind. Beautification is NOT worth fungal disease.

Prep for the Black Tie Event

I have a dress fetish.

I always have.

But the funny is, I’m really not one to dress up.

I’m prefer the au natural look to the prom dress, caked in make-up, nails and toenails painted, etc evening out. And yet, after a quick trip to Filene’s Basement, I’m a proud owner of four new gowns and filled with excitement for Saturday’s gala.

I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Hilton Head

Inches of the Earth

I am so often overwhelmed with creativity and happiness in airports and while crammed into the tiny quarters of airplane seats. I don’t know why.

There is just nothing better than traveling.

In airports, like this one in Atlanta, people are miserable. Everyone's tired and crabby, roaming around like zombies, pissed off there flight was late or there's nothing to do or everything grimey. And then there's me... happy as a pig in shit, curled up with greasy food and some luggage in a rock-hard chair by the window (from which I have a lovely view of airport hangers and parked cars). My pleasure in merely being in an airport is probably enough to irritate all those around me. But what the hell.

It's just... The world is so big! And from the small window of the plane, I get to see spaces — inches of the Earth — that I’d probably never otherwise see… and will probably never see again. But I swear, I’m a better person for seeing them none-the-less.

I’m talking about the insignificant, unexciting patches of land that pass beneath as planes sore overhead. Forests and hills and tiny country neighborhoods, like the one I grew up in, where little kids are just getting out of school and playing outside and hearing the rumble of jet engines. And then they’ll look up and see this plane and wonder where it’s going, just like I did when I was a kid.

But what’s most exciting for me, is that even on this little trip to Savannah, from my plane window I will have seen well over 1000 square miles of the planet. Earth being some 200,000,000 square miles total, I haven’t really put a dent in it… but I’ve seen more than some. And that’s an empowering thought.

The Flood

I worked this weekend. It’s never fun, but there are things to be done. And I’m happy to do them.

I was going to come it, but I didn’t. I worked from home.

And while I was tucked beneath my down blanket, cuddled up with my dog and laptop, the office drowned.


Ok, I’m being dramatic. But the roof of our 115-year-old building leaked, and I arrived bright and early this morning to the awful stench of flooded carpets. The windowed offices by my humble “cubicle” were drenched — wet papers peeling of bulletin boards that hung loosely in soggy walls. Water leaked from the keyboards, and coffee mugs left empty on the desks were filled with melted snow.

At least, I figured, it was just the edges of the building. Four offices; that’s not so bad. We’re renovating anyways, so two of them were already empty, waiting a fresh coat of paint and new carpeting.

But then I went to sit down.

Somehow, the water followed the grid in the ceiling to pour down all over my space as well, creating a puddle that, at one point, was four-inches deep. I know this because of the water stains on the bags I had left on my floor.

What'd I lose?

Not the computer; thank God. Instead: phone charger, ipod charger, powerbook charger, imuff charger, and... one pair of ugg boots, among other miscellaneous things.

::sigh::

I'm just happy I’m going on vacation.

I’m not celebrating St. Patrick’s Day.

Because there was a blizzard on, and I’m helping my friend recover.

But boy, was last year fun!

Saggy-Faced Dog

I never thought I’d be one of those people.

You know, the “love me, love my dog” type.

But I am. I take personal offense when people don’t fall in love with Tequila. Of course, being a sweet-natured, adorable mushmellow of a dog, I simply can’t understand what kind of person wouldn’t adore her.

So, naturally, I always get a little prickly when my mentor/boss doesn’t want Tequila near her. Like Tikki’s the plague or something. But I understand some people just don’t like dogs, so I always kept Tequila at bay.

But then today, my mentor/boss was all excited about this cute little dog running around the office. “I wish she’d come hang out with me and be my mascot for a little while!” I couldn’t understand why she didn’t act the same towards my adorable, cuddly beast, until she came out and said:

“Ya know, I really only like tight-faced dogs.”

With her wrinkles and jowls and saggy face… I just know Tequila doesn’t make the cut.


But tell me she isn’t frickin cute?!

This isn’t even funny anymore.

I just had to drop off the check. It was for a client, honest.

I had to stop at the library, put my blinkers on, run in, drop off an envelope at the front desk, and run out. In the 60 seconds that took me, I got ANOTHER ticket...

...bringing me to a grand total of $350 for 3 days of babysitting a car.

(And Cloey is still getting sick on my carpet every night.)

I just wanted a good day!

My phone is broken.

It just won’t work. At all. There’s no explanation, except that this week hates me. HATES me.

(Seriously, a good day... please?)

UGH

I can’t do this anymore.

This has been the worst week ever. And last week was only slightly better. I think for the past 10 days or so, each night I go to bed and say, “Think positively: tomorrow will better, because things can’t get any worse” or “Well, this is really rock-bottom. So the only direction I can go is up!”
And yet, I’ve found myself near tears every day. And then some.

At work, everything is impossible. There’s too much going on, people are crazy, and everyone’s feeling discouraged. At home… things just aren’t always so easy. They’re tearing my kitchen apart, leaving us no room to exist. And I hadn’t cleaned the dogshit up because of the snow, so when it melted while I was away this weekend, the neighbors circled it on the sidewalk. Now I’m all full of guilt and shame and shit.

This morning I took my parents to the airport so they could get a plane headed for the Caribbean, leaving me to rot in the FREEZING Boston cold. I thought I’d do the right thing — put their minds at ease by taking good care of their car and their dog.

I dropped them off at Logan at 6:45am. Within three hours, the dog got sick (shitting on the rug) and the car got towed.

I JUST NEED A GOOD DAY.