Tag: blogger

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Well, well, well. Here I am. Eating Crow.

Ya know all that crap I wrote about getting my nails done? How I hate holding hands with people, but I am going to do it? Budget it? And make it happen?

Yes. I know. It is horrifying.

Well, that was a lie. Ya wanna know why? BECAUSE I AM NEVER GETTING MY NAILS DONE AGAIN! (That could be a lie, too – but it’s gonna take a minute. ) You want to know why? Pain. That’s why. Pain.

You know how they say beauty is painful or something like that? I don’t think they meant slamming your finger in a door and ripping the perfectly manicured nail off my long, bony fingers. And yes, I realize I made my hands sound like witch hands. Whatever, It’s Halloween. And MY FINGER LOOKS LIKE MY COSTUME!

I will say this, I had put off blogging some, because it was really hard to type with my nails. Maybe God was saying, “Kristie! Wake Up! Stop being vain, and do what you are supposed to do!” I wish it had been a little less vicious, not gonna lie. LOL.

So, I don’t often eat crow. But today, I bow my head, and say – “I’m gonna stick with my natural nails for the standard days – and get me some press-ons when I need a boost. Because. This was traumatizing.

Canuck the Crow gained fame for stealing a knife from an East Vancouver crime scene. (Facebook/thecrowandI)

And by eating crow, I don’t mean the super cool murder-y Canuck. I mean, the colloquial idiom, pure humiliation after being proven wrong – when you take a strong position. Yeah, I had to eat crow.

And for you viewing pleasure and add a little-lightheartedness to this – here is a pic of my favorite crow, Canuck. Canuck is a mischievous little crow, who according to the Audubon society:

Canuck, a hand-raised crow from Vancouver, Canada, that was caught making off with a knife from a crime scene in a McDonald’s parking lot earlier this year. The incident was a violent one: A man set fire to his own car and threatened the police with a knife. Shots were fired. Afterward, in swept Canuck, plucking the knife from the crime scene and even causing an officer to give chase. Eventually the bird dropped the weapon and avoided any criminal charges.  

Audubon Society

So there ya have it. I should stuck with my gut. If I had, maybe my finger wouldn’t look like Cancuck dropped his murder-y knife on it.

Live Fully. Live Fully.

Sat. Nam.

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This statement was said to me. No kidding. And it was followed up with, “she wears the diamond studs – I wear the hooops). Now, what this young lady was trying to convey to me, was the reason that she was about to beat down another young lady. She was showing their differences to me. Bad example, but nonetheless, an effort was made. Anyway – I squashed the brawl from happening – no nails were broken, no earrings taken out. All was right in the world.

I have coffin nails now. I love them. The are pretty, soft pink, and I feel put together when my nails are done. I had stopped for a while, a long while, because it was expensive. But, I got a gift card for my birthday, and I am covered for a few months from that. After that, I have worked it into my budget by cutting out a few other things, because I like the way I feel put together.

I say that, to say this.

Get Ready. It’s gonna be a shocker.

I HATE TO GET MY NAILS DONE. I HATE IT. I ABHOR IT. IT’S THE WORST THING EVER.

I hate – SO MUCH – sitting across from someone who I don’t know, and casually hold hands. Let’s just talk about casually holding hands. I hold hands with a small number of people. My man, my kids, my parents, and yeah – that’s it. And let me explain it more.

I will hold my man’s hand, like in the car, being cute – for a few minutes. Or, I will let him hold my hand or guide me at the waist if we are in traffic and we are pedestrians. That’s it. My kids – I will hold their hands to get them through a crowd – traffic – and my little guy, a parking lot. But you wanna know what doesn’t happen? I don’t hold random people’s hands. I don’t.

Now, in this discussion that I have had numerous times, people have said – “A massage is weirder!” No, no it isn’t. One – we aren’t 15 inches from each other’ face – eyes open. Two, they are massaging your back, legs, whatever – I can’t get those parts myself. Not when you are getting your nails done.YOU ARE HOLDING A NAIL TECH’S HAND! AND HAVING A CONVERSATION! OR ATTEMPTING IT! OR NOT! WHAT IS THE PROTOCOL? WHAT IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE SAYING? IT STRESSES ME OUT!

Pedicures? Less terrible. But I don’t love it. I can read a magazine. Until they bring out the scrapey thing. I HATE THAT! Also, if I say don’t use it, don’t use it. I don’t care if you think I need it. I don’t like it. Please don’t use it.

So you might say, “Kristie, why are you torturing yourself?” Well, vanity, I would guess. I like it when I look at my hands and the don’t look like withered hands of a much older woman. Broken Nails from digging inside cars with stains of different paints and enamels. When I look down and my fingers look pretty – I feel better. It’s vanity. Vanity for me. And I like the result. Just hate the process. Almost exactly like the gym.

Now, just to prove it isn’t normal to hold hands with adults that isn’t your tribe throughout your day, I’ve attached some pics. Enjoy – and yes. We all cracked up over this.

  • Rebecca and I casually holding hands while going over a final bill.
  • Nikki and I casually holding hands while walking down to accounting to check on her vacation paperwork.
  • Sara and I casually holding hands while we teamwork the crap out of drying this car!
  • My pretty nails.