My perky little friend the CrocWhore was telling us about going to get pedicures. She is like me, she never has had many - but we howled at what happened to her!
So - she goes in and goes to pick her color polish. She is between 2 colors and just can't decide. Just as she is about to put one back, the color she WANTS slips from her hand and fall to the floor, splattering all over the tile and the walls. Decision made. The little man in the shop is trying to frantically wipe it up and tell her it is ok in his broken English, and CrocWhore is absolutley mortified. Pink splatters are all over the place and he gets some polish remover to try to get it cleaned up. It comes off the tile, but as he and the girl in the shop frantically try to wipe the wall - the paint starts coming off the wall!
Meanwhile, she gets seated with polish color choice 2 and complains to us that she does not really understand that when LittleMan is tapping her foot it is some Secret Squirrel language for her to move her foot. She assumed it was part of the foot massage of the pedicure and he just taps and taps, then eventually slaps her foot harder and harder until he finally just reaches down and moves it so he can work on the other foot!
As LittleMan moves on to work on her toenails, CrocWhore reveals to us that she had a broken toenail on her pinky toe and it was sort of hanging half-on, half-off. LittleMan asks her in pseudo-English if she wants it removed, or cut, or whatever. CrocWhore tries to tell him to just leave it - but unsuccessfully. After some argumentative exchange, minutes later, LittleMan rips the broken part of the toenail off - and CrocWhore intuitively reacts by screaming "F**K!" LittleMan holds the nail up triumphantly and celebrates with "I got it! I got it!" and CrocWhore musters all her strength to A) not cry B) hide from the shame that she just screamed an obscenity and C) not kill or maim LittleMan with one of his own manicure tools.
Somehow, everyone in the shop survives the remainder of the actual pedicure itself, but CrocWhore is not quite done with her misadventure.... She is instructed to go seat herself to dry the polish at the drying table. Alas, the translation to put her feet under the light UNDER the table is grossly miscommunicated. Little toe-separator flip-flops in place, CrocWhore promptly puts her feet up ON the table and begins to read a magazine! LittleMan comes running over, flustered, and points and wildly gestures enough to get her feet where they belong.
CrocWhore slips her feet under the table and waits patiently for her polish to dry, pays her way out and tips heavily in embarrassment.
As she sheepishly is walking out, vowing never to return to that shop again, LittleMan comes running after her -- asking for the flip-flops that she wore out of the shop! to be returned.
CrocWhore made good on her promise to not go back to that shop, but her mother did - and she let CrocWhore know that there is a big ol' square of mismatched paint on the back wall of the shop precisely where polish had splattered.
CrocWhore did her own toenails for our trip.
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