pot pourri

That was always my favorite category on Jeopardy. But for me, it’s only fun to play Jeopardy alone. Because then I can be totally smug when I know the answer. Inevitably if someone else is around, they think more quickly than me. AND remember to give the answer in the form of a question. Grr.

But that’s really not my point today. What is my point?

I don’t know. I guess that’s my point. I just came back from an interview. Intense, people.

To prepare for said interview, yesterday I decided that in the midst of my many busy errands (because, as you know, I am incredibly busy) it would be great if I happened upon a nail salon. I did, so it was fate. This experience couldn’t have been farther away though, figuratively speaking, from NY (not literally speaking, because that would mean I got my nails done in Australia. Are you still with me here?). For starters, in Brooklyn and NY at large, there is a nail salon approximately every ten feet. And if you walk into any one, the employees will always say, “Five minutes. Pick your color. Five minutes.” And even though all us Americans know that the nail salon people lie, we will pick our color and sit down and wait 45 minutes. Well not here in merry old England. Even though we live in posh Marylebone, home of Madonna, there appears to be only one nail salon in the entire area. And when I went into it, the entire salon stared at me like I was wearing a foam cheesehead and cheering on the Packers. Apparently they only do reservations. What?? That is against the mani/pedi bible. Undeterred, I made an appt for an hour later and quickly went to the gym. When I returned, I figured it served them right that I smelled like a locker room. I overheard the two other Brit customers in there talking about how exciting New York was, and one woman said, “the women in NY are so put together, always blowdried hair and painted nails.” I slithered down in my seat. They clearly weren’t taking into account my generally disheveled nature and fondness for Old Navy while a yankee. Finally, the mean and scornful women doing my nails, who seemed to disbelieve I could legitimately live in this neighborhood (what was it- the dirty North Face coat?) since they grilled me with 20 questions, finished my nails and settled up. And here is where I really missed NY. The cost of my mani and pedi, adjusted to the current exchange rate, could feed an entire village in the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur. And teach literacy to a shantytown in upper Mongolia. And fund work on the cleft palates, if need be, of every future child born in Appalachia. Shameful.

I’m going back to do my eyebrows because they do threading, weeeeeee.



Filed under career, exchange rate, london

6 responses to “pot pourri

  1. Fig Newton

    love it.
    tell Mrs. Richie hi for me.

  2. Brian

    and then, I guess, maybe there are days when this isn’t my favorite blog…

  3. Barks

    re: the name Fig Newton. I picture a little Fig Newton typing away. It cracks me up. P.S. I love Fig Newtons.

    My problem with mani/pedis is when I go and they sit there and talk nonstop in a language I don’t understand and I become CONVINCED they are saying mean things about my scrappy nails. “She clearly hasn’t had a mani in so long.” “Check out those horrible cuticles!” “Who last shaped HER nails?” And I sit there, red faced, smiling and nodding, clueless.

  4. yaelgutt

    That is the thing: the nail salons are so exclusive here, THEY SPEAK ENGLISH. It’s uncomfortable. I think I miss the language barrier.

    Brian, I am really sorry I let you down today. Although, you let me down first. NO comment on my Brazen Head picture??? That’s just wrong.

  5. Ney Ney

    You didn’t reveal how you singlehandedly precipitated a riot in the Royal Nails salon in Arlington. Your photo is on a wanted poster in the back of the store next to the massage table that collapses everytime someone lays down on it.

  6. yaelgutt

    The Vietnamese women at Royal Nails exhibit a power-hungry reign of terror not seen since Pol Pot. I don’t care if they do a good french mani.

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