All the small things-

Walking to get a pedicure at Q West on 18th St., I overheard the following half of a conversation by a heavy woman in a security uniform yelling on her cell phone.

"I'm walking as fast as I can." Strolling down the street.
"I'm on my way. Okay. I'm on my way." Stops to tie shoelace.
"Look, I don't got wheels on my feet. I'm pounding them as fast I can."
"I'm almost there. Okay. On my way."
"Look, I don't got wheels. I'm pounding here."
"Okay. Okay. I'll be there."
"I'm coming. Damn. Running here." Still strolling. She turned the corner before I could here the rest of the conversation.

I had a male pedicurist. That always creeps me out. Something about it seems off. I hate it when a male pedicurist massages my feet and legs. You gotta imagine how they get themselves off. And then, you gotta imagine what that looks like. And then, since most men working at a nail salon aren't too hot, you get grossed out.

Not that I see pedicures as relaxing. Besides the fact that I'm ticklish, they are such a necessity for singles living in a city during the summer that they basically become something you have to do... like buying toilet paper. They are impossible to do as well at home by yourself. They are expensive. You usually end up reading a 1998 copy of Ladies Home Journal and scuffing at least one nail on the walk from the pedicure chair to the UV ray drying area. Generally, you are insulted by pedicurist. Today, I was told that even though I prefer to have my toe nails rounded in shape, my toes are wide (read here, fat) so square looks better. I went for round out of principle alone. And, pedicures are expensive. They are $30 with tip.

I got lunch at Jolt & Bolt and brought it back to the office. The woman behind the counter was a bit overweight. I like it when my servers are a bit overweight. It's like when you see restaurant staff eating at their own place of work. Makes you feel like the food most be okay.

Done with my ramblings.