Have you ever wondered if you were born under a bad sign? I mean does it ever seem like life is more lemons than lemonade and who was the idiot that coined that slogan anyway? Shoot him. I know it was a man, a woman would not say anything that dumb. A woman would say lemon pie or lemon bars.
I have no photos for this story. You will need to imagine this all by yourself.
I would like to share with you about my spa experience. You remember right? My uber cool present from the Hunny and Kayla? The 1/2 hour massage a mani and a pedi? The coolest of all Mothers Day gifts. What could possibly go wrong with a great gift like that?
Well, hold onto your hats kids cuz wez goin to hell--so to speak.
Salon is in a good area of town, exterior uneventful but the shopping center is nice in a medium upscale kind of way. No bums, no drunks, no litter or riff raff, it looks safe enough. The name of it is "Serenity", that sounded promising.
Inside the shop --it's completely empty of customers. You could hear a pin drop inbetween the nail gun going off, they are under construction. A small remodeling project they explain.
Stupid me, "You are open for business?"
Devilish them, "Yes, certainly we are doing this little project but we are glad you are here!"
Stupid me, "Well, ok then." this is the part where I should have bolted for the door. Somebody has to pay for the remodel though.
I proceeded to fill out the client info form for the massage which was much to much like a doctors visit.
Most of the questions were none of their dad gum business anyway.
The massage was alright, I was pretty relaxed inspite of the hammers, the nail gun and the workmen.
Then I got a little trim. I was so relaxed he could have shaved my head. I thought it was odd that he sprayed my head with cold water and got my face all wet instead of shampooing my hair. Isn't one of the best parts of getting your hair cut getting it washed? Another red flag but silly me I missed it. The massage was better than I thought!
This hairstylist is a little guy. He was telling me how he just moved here from Nashville because he got flooded out. I asked him where he went to school and he went in San Francisco. Hummm. He used to live pretty rough and getting his license to do hair has been really great. He just can't believe he can make money painting nails.....instead of roughing it in bars.....
This is where the whole "experience" really became an experience. The pedi chair is kind of in a back hall by the dirty shampoo bowl and all the construction goings on. The construction guys are going in and out and every time they walk by they glance at what we are doing; or trying to do. They keep walking back and forth with bright red molding. I'm wondering where the bright red molding is going to go? The salon is purple, green, and gray. About the twentieth trip I asked. The bright red molding was for the front desk. Whatever you say.
Back to the pedi--I have been distracted.
First he says, " the water is hot."
Stupid me, "How hot?" I am thinking about smoking little snausages.... not that hot I can get in. It feels slippery though and that is because there is too much soap in there. I know there is too much soap in there because the bubbles are going above my knees. I am thinking that the bubbles are going to completely hide me soon which will be alright.
The guy from Nashville is trying to let the water out so I can get rinsed off. He can't figure it out. He tries to add water to rinse and it is cold. Cold water and hot water---very interesting. He scrubs my heels a wee bit, a very wee bit. He then dries my soapy legs off with rough stained towels I would use for rags or throw away. Then he rubs cream into my soapy skin. This is getting good! I am not kidding.
Nashville guy says, "So you just want a clear coat?"
VERY stupid me says, "No I'd like to pick a color." Stupid me is wondering where the polish is because it is no where to be seen. Stupid me has been wondering why everything this guy reaches for has been in a duffle bag. So just how clean is your duffle bag anyway? Gross. I am getting freaked out. This is translating into hysterical fits of laughter. I cannot believe this. I am waiting for a reality show person to jump out and say "Your punked!"
Stupid me is stuck behind the towering bowl full of bubbles wondering how to get out of the chair. There must be some where to get my toe nails painted that is out of the construction zone. I some how scooted around and out of that without falling on my butt face.
Onto the fingernail room. The fingernail room with the fingernail clippings all over the floor--EWWWWWWWWWWWWW....
Still stupid me did not flee for the exit. Stupid me proceeded to have my foot picked up and placed on the Nashville Guy's knee on one of those hideous towels. Did I mention that I am seated in a chair that rolls? Leaning on a table that rolls? Leaning on a table until I actually LOOK at the table--another EEEWWWWWW. Ya'll own any windex?
Nashville Guy says, "Can you bend your knee?"
Stupid me says,"sure," and when I do I sail back wards in my chair that rolls. At this point I am undone with laughter. This is my "spa day" the irony of it is cracking me up. I don't know why it isn't making me angry but it just isn't. I mean really I have got more upset over not getting bread when we go out to eat. I think the massage first, was a plot. I was just too mellow to realize that they were working me over here!
We still have not started painting nails. Mr. Nashville drank to much coffee well that was the story anyway. He has the stinkin shakes bad---I am sure my whole haircut is textured. I watch in sheer unbelief as his hands bounce all over my toes. His hands are so jumpy the polish is going everywhere, he is blobbing it on in any direction. It looks like crap. But!!! Stupid me I sit there and take it. Hope dies hard for me. This is my uber cool spa day.
After what must have been an hour my horrible paint job is over. I still have a manicure to get.
Did I leave?
NO. It's true I have no brain.
Let me sum up with this. No finger bowl. More yukky nasty towels. Horrible blob job of thick wet polish that was hanging in chunks from my nails by the time I got home. He "sprayed" them with this stuff that was designed to kill me dry the nails. Clouds of that asthma producing toxic fog did get me to feet and headed for the door! One more glance back and the bubbles were still there! Good bye forever"Serenity" you lie!
When I got home the first thing I did was grab my nail polish remover and clean up.
Next I grabbed my swim suit, my towel, and you guessed it--- headed straight for the pool.
No more spa days for me. Think I'll buy myself one of those home foot spa things...you know, do it myself. As it is the heels still need a good scrubbing. Good grief Charlie Brown!
Lemons? Lemonade? Pishaaawww!!! Maybe I should publish this in our local paper.