I'm currently typing like a moron. I certainly would not beat Justin in a WMP competitions right now. What is the cause of my current handicap? No, I haven't had too much to drink. No, my fingernails aren't comparable to Gail Devers (but getting close). No, I'm not trying to type this on my little tiny ridiculous Palm Pixi. My disability comes from an incredibly stiff bandaid. This self-proclaimed 'Heavy Duty' first-aid essential is protecting my poor little ring finger and, although I appreciate it's hard work, due to it's tight love-sqeueeze I've already had to correct approximately every fifth word for typos. Needless to say this will be a short post.
What does my injured finger have to do with what I learned today? Well, I'll tell you that I SHOULD have learned this a month ago, but it's finally becoming clear to me. One month ago Alexis and I decided we needed a little post-work manicure. We attempted to go to Douglas J, but unfortunately they were closed. We tried another salon that turned us down before finally arriving at a little place called ABC Nails. The name ABC should have been my first red flag. (Only a small select group of people will understand why I might say that, but just trust me.)
Now I'm not one to hate on a cheap mani but I'd bet my uninfected ring finger that they are not up to any sort of health code. The 11 year old that did my nails did such a disastrous job that, in addition to the fact that my french manicure looked an awful similar to the top of the Rocky Mountains, this chick actually stabbed me. Stabbed me. My finger bled so much that it filled an entire paper towel. Not like a drop here, a drop there, an entire paper towel.
All I'm saying is, my finger still hurts from this minor stab wound. I think it might be time for some antibiotics. But realistically, I'm probably 30 days overdue. Moral of the story: it is never worth it to get your nails done at a salon that makes you sit in chairs with stuffed panda heads. Ever.