Yesterday started early and ended late for me. I woke up to run some errands and to finalize things for my upcoming vacay in Miami. After I got home, I decided to go ahead and walk down the block for my semi-bi-weekly pedicure. I grabbed that iPod and bop down the block to my neighborhood pedi place.
As I approach, I see the girl who usually pets my dawgs, but she's walking away from the store. That seemed odd. She saw me and nods/half bows and says something I really couldn't understand. I assumed she was saying she'd be right back. So, I go in and sit down.
10 minutes elapsed. The 15, then 20. I'm like hold the hell up. Is she coming back or not? As a black male, I already stick out more than Amy Winehouse at a anti-crack convention. I really didn't want to spend more time there than I needed to. A few minutes later, this bitch comes racing through the door with a goddamn Starbucks cup in hand. It was at that point I decided she was drinking her damn tip. She can kiss that extra $5 I throw her way goodbye.
So, this hoe comes over to me and says, "Station 6."
Station 6?!?! That's all you have to say? You make me wait 20 minutes for your ass to return from Starbucks and the only thing you say is "Station 6"? I can't even get a 'I'm sorry' or a 'my bad' or a damn ventti iced carmel macchiatto for my wait? Bitch, please.
I thought about leaving, but knew I really don’t have time to do this during the week and that I was not going to Miami without getting my toes taken care of. Messy feet are fine during northeast winters in Baltimore when these feet won’t see the light of day, but not in Miami. I’m not trying bury my feet in the sand everyday. So...I took my ass to Station 6.
I hop in the chair and remove my shoes and socks. She starts running the water and making all the preparations and stuff. Now, let me you something. Anytime I'm getting recuperative services performed i.e. massages, pedicures, facials, etc., I don't want to talk. It's my time, not theirs and I can very much hold her accountable for this because I had to check her ass on it before.
This convo started by her asking if I wanted to get the mani/pedi combo for $32. I pondered it for a second, but ultimately said...no thanks. I mean, I'm totally comfortable walking into a nail shop to get a pedicure. That's a no brainer. Getting a manicure and a pedicure...at the same time, well, now, that tests my manhood.
Anyway, at this point that water is warm, those bubbles are flowing and that massaging chair is kneading my tensed back like dough. I'm feeling good. My attention is focused on that blackberry. I'm emailing Nia and La and Royce and Nuttin Nyce among others. I'm pretty cool.
Then she asks me again if I want the mani/pedi combo. I'm like...no. Then she asks something about if I work somewhere or something. To be honest, I didn't understand what she was saying. I'm like...just take care of my feet. I mean, I didn't come here to party.
So, she gets to work. I mean...she's going to town using those oils and liquids and shit. She's cutting and clipping and scrapping and peeling and doing what she does. Then, she did the one thing that REALLY grinds my gears -- she starts talking to the other worker two stations over in their language. I HATE that shit. You're speaking another language, your eyes are shifting back and forth between someone else and my feet. I can't understand what you're saying. What the fuck am I supposed to think? I've been getting pedicures for about 2 years or so and I absolutely hate that shit. Plus, I still didn't forget about her ass making me wait for her to go to Starbucks and not bringing me back a damn iced carmel macchiatto.
So, I unreclined that message chair, leaned up and said...are you talking to her about my feet? She was taken aback. I guess no one ever asks what they're talking about. She said...no, no. We're talking about how chilly it's gotten outside after being so pleasant this afternoon. Wait a minute. You expect me to believe that you're talking about the weather while grinning and smiling and eyeing my feet? Riiiiight.
Anyway, she finishes up and this is when things really got dicey. While I'm putting my socks and shoes back on, she disappears to the back to do whatever she was doing. I'll admit, I was completely focused on that blackberry, so I kinda walked toward of the front of the store. She rushes up behind me and says....can you pay now?
I look at her like wait a minute, bitch. Don't try to play me like somebody trying to skip out on their check. I'm not trying to get over, hoe. I practically throw a $20 at that bitch and keep it moving.
As soon as I got outside I emailed La and told her what had just happened. Her response was simple and concise: Boo Asian Bitch.
My sentiments exactly.
She does a good job, but she pissed me the fuck off yesterday. I'll see that ass in two weeks though.
As I approach, I see the girl who usually pets my dawgs, but she's walking away from the store. That seemed odd. She saw me and nods/half bows and says something I really couldn't understand. I assumed she was saying she'd be right back. So, I go in and sit down.
10 minutes elapsed. The 15, then 20. I'm like hold the hell up. Is she coming back or not? As a black male, I already stick out more than Amy Winehouse at a anti-crack convention. I really didn't want to spend more time there than I needed to. A few minutes later, this bitch comes racing through the door with a goddamn Starbucks cup in hand. It was at that point I decided she was drinking her damn tip. She can kiss that extra $5 I throw her way goodbye.
So, this hoe comes over to me and says, "Station 6."
Station 6?!?! That's all you have to say? You make me wait 20 minutes for your ass to return from Starbucks and the only thing you say is "Station 6"? I can't even get a 'I'm sorry' or a 'my bad' or a damn ventti iced carmel macchiatto for my wait? Bitch, please.
I thought about leaving, but knew I really don’t have time to do this during the week and that I was not going to Miami without getting my toes taken care of. Messy feet are fine during northeast winters in Baltimore when these feet won’t see the light of day, but not in Miami. I’m not trying bury my feet in the sand everyday. So...I took my ass to Station 6.
I hop in the chair and remove my shoes and socks. She starts running the water and making all the preparations and stuff. Now, let me you something. Anytime I'm getting recuperative services performed i.e. massages, pedicures, facials, etc., I don't want to talk. It's my time, not theirs and I can very much hold her accountable for this because I had to check her ass on it before.
This convo started by her asking if I wanted to get the mani/pedi combo for $32. I pondered it for a second, but ultimately said...no thanks. I mean, I'm totally comfortable walking into a nail shop to get a pedicure. That's a no brainer. Getting a manicure and a pedicure...at the same time, well, now, that tests my manhood.
Anyway, at this point that water is warm, those bubbles are flowing and that massaging chair is kneading my tensed back like dough. I'm feeling good. My attention is focused on that blackberry. I'm emailing Nia and La and Royce and Nuttin Nyce among others. I'm pretty cool.
Then she asks me again if I want the mani/pedi combo. I'm like...no. Then she asks something about if I work somewhere or something. To be honest, I didn't understand what she was saying. I'm like...just take care of my feet. I mean, I didn't come here to party.
So, she gets to work. I mean...she's going to town using those oils and liquids and shit. She's cutting and clipping and scrapping and peeling and doing what she does. Then, she did the one thing that REALLY grinds my gears -- she starts talking to the other worker two stations over in their language. I HATE that shit. You're speaking another language, your eyes are shifting back and forth between someone else and my feet. I can't understand what you're saying. What the fuck am I supposed to think? I've been getting pedicures for about 2 years or so and I absolutely hate that shit. Plus, I still didn't forget about her ass making me wait for her to go to Starbucks and not bringing me back a damn iced carmel macchiatto.
So, I unreclined that message chair, leaned up and said...are you talking to her about my feet? She was taken aback. I guess no one ever asks what they're talking about. She said...no, no. We're talking about how chilly it's gotten outside after being so pleasant this afternoon. Wait a minute. You expect me to believe that you're talking about the weather while grinning and smiling and eyeing my feet? Riiiiight.
Anyway, she finishes up and this is when things really got dicey. While I'm putting my socks and shoes back on, she disappears to the back to do whatever she was doing. I'll admit, I was completely focused on that blackberry, so I kinda walked toward of the front of the store. She rushes up behind me and says....can you pay now?
I look at her like wait a minute, bitch. Don't try to play me like somebody trying to skip out on their check. I'm not trying to get over, hoe. I practically throw a $20 at that bitch and keep it moving.
As soon as I got outside I emailed La and told her what had just happened. Her response was simple and concise: Boo Asian Bitch.
My sentiments exactly.
She does a good job, but she pissed me the fuck off yesterday. I'll see that ass in two weeks though.
7 comments:
uh, I thought pedicures were supposed to be reaxing. She got you all tensed and bothered.
you r crazy
LMFAO!!!
"I'll see that ass in two weeks though."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! So ridiculous, lol
I visit ur blog often and I don't think I've laughed as much as I did today. Who knows, maybe I'm sleepy or something.
Enjoy Miami!!!!
lmfao... u and la are ridiculous!!!
Wait Wait Wait!!! Now you explain to me how a mani/pedi can test your manhood, but not just a pedicure!!!!
I've had manicures, but never a pedicure!!!! The only person touching my feet are me. And I think I do a damn good job!!!
uh yeah well um okay. not sure i'm feeling this story or the moral behind it.
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