Tag Archive: pedicures


For Christmas, I gave Nikki a gift card to a salon/spa with the intent that we would get pedicures together. Well, as fate would have it, as a birthday activity, Nikki and I went to get pedicures yesterday afternoon. For an hour and a half, we sat in cushy, black recliners while we soaked our feet in warm water and got to have our toes painted.

I happen to be very, very ticklish, a fact I always seem to forget until someone is touching my feet.

Anyway, yes, for an hour and a half my feet were very well taken care of. And then I put my socks back on and shoved my feet into my boots and we ventured back out into the Michigan snow.

Later that night, I slipped my stocking-covered feet into some black ballet flats while me and my gal pals terrorized East Lansing once again as we tried to “re-do” new year’s eve.

My toes were perfect. Not a chip or a smudge.

When I went to put on some fuzzy socks I noticed that something is not quite right with my toes. I think it has something to do with the fact that the three toesies in the middle on my left foot also kind of hurt.

I’m sure you’re wondering why that might be.

Don’t worry, I’ll tell you.

This morning, after I woke up and told Megan that I had yet another dream where I was about to die, and after I asked her if she wanted me to give her a wet-willy, we decided we’d venture downstairs to reunite with the last leg of our Tripod. Megan left the room and headed down the stairs before me because I turned back thinking I would bring my fleece love-knot blanket and LP down with me. Then, because I realized that my hands were already full with a three-quarter of the way full plastic cup of water and my crackberry, I decided I could live without LP and good ole fleecey.  At least for the time being.

I had taken maybe two steps when I turned my head to say, “I’ll come back for you!” in a whisper to LP when all hell broke loose.

Before I knew it, I was in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs with nothing but an empty cup in my hand.

I’d just like to point out that Megan’s stairway is very, very steep and it’s probably a safety hazard. I’m not just an idiot who doesn’t know how to do steps.

Megan came back from wherever she had been and then started laughing when she saw that I wasn’t actually hurt. Apparently, all she heard was a big thuddddd and a “whoa” and knew she needed to check on me.

After I picked myself up off the floor, I went to go tell Seneca that I had just bit it down the stairs but my first question was if she was even awake. The response I got? Something along the lines of “how could I not be?!”  While she didn’t hear the “whoa” punctuating my fall, she did hear me whine, “Ohhh, now I’m all wet!”

I’m pretty sure I’m not telling this right because I was laughing my ass off as the three of us regaled the hilarity it was to know that I took a tumble down the stairs.

My point is, now one of my toenails is a tiny bit chipped and there’s some degree of rug burn on my three middle toes on just my one foot.

If we could have filmed me busting my ass like that, I totally could have won some money on America’s Funniest Home Videos.

I pretty much just need my own camera crew, a few corporate sponsors and a reality show/development deal with a major TV network. I’m pretty sure I’ve got my life all mapped out.

Yesterday was Grandma’s 78th birthday.

She requested for my mom to make fajitas for dinner and chocolate cake. That’s exactly what she got. (Yum, btw.) And then we did presents and talked about how different life is now than it was when she was young. I love when that happens because her childhood is just so outrageous to me. She talks about how she used to iron her brothers shirts all the time and that amazes me because I’ve never ironed anything in my life, besides my hair. Jeeez! Although, I have used my flat iron to “iron” a few articles of clothing. Something tells me, though, that that is totally not the same thing.

Grandma enjoys getting pedicures and is seriously obsessed with sports. She cares about, like, every sport there is. Something is always on. Hockey, football, tennis, golf, baseball… it never ends. She tries to make conversation with me about it but it’s completely useless since I just don’t know sports or care to pay much attention to it.

For her birthday, my mom thought of something awesome to give her. She purchased tickets to the Detroit Tigers game that was at 1:05 this afternoon. Grandma has talked about how she hasn’t been to Comerica Park and how she so wants to go to a Tigers game for foreverrrrrr. So we just fucking did it. We got tickets, hopped in the car this morning and drove to Detroit to watch the Tigers play the Minnesota Twins. She was so excited and it was adorable. She was so surprised and it just made it really precious to give those tickets to her for her birthday.

As previously stated, I do not watch sports. Most importantly, baseball is just so not sexy. It’s like the least sexy of all sports. With football, you’ve got these buff guys who run around in spandex and throw people to the ground. That’s kinda hot. And with soccer, you’ve got these really lean, really fit, hot guys who wear pretty normal outfits and aren’t all ‘roided up. Swimmers… this is all I’m gonna say: baaaangin’ bodies. Hockey is hot because even though it’s violent there’s something about the thrill of the fighting; you know those guys aren’t pansies. Golf  isn’t exactly sexy but I guess it’s not not sexy. (Tiger Woods is a total douche but I basically pretend he doesn’t exist, so whatevs.)  I mostly just think of people my dad’s age when I think of golf, and that’s awkward. Never mind. Let’s move on. My point is that baseball is not sexy and I just don’t get it. No thanks.

But, despite my feelings towards baseball, to the game we went. There was way more traffic than anticipated and Grandma told me I looked like “Sarah Palin’s daughter with those new sunglasses”- whatever that means. (I didn’t take that as a compliment. Bristol Palin (and basically the whole Palin clan) is a hot damn mess. Not in the cute, fun way that I am.)  When we got there, it was sunny and nice and it felt so good because the air was BLASTING in the car. But we got to our seats and I wanted to die. It was scorching. I now have a really sexy tan. And by that I mean I have not-so-cute tanlines. And by tan, I mean I’m bright red. Despite putting sun-screen on, I definitely burned. Whatever, though, right? Sunburns are sexy. bahaha

Long story short, I’d go to another game. It’s just fun to be there, be a part of it and feel the excitement of everyone around you. I enjoyed eating a hotdog in the stands and I totally wished I had Tigers apparel because that’s the best part- dressing for the occasion! lol I’m such a girl.

UPDATE (seriously-wtf-day-is-it?!, July 13):

here’s a picture to show you how good my sunburn looks:

soooooo sexy!!! i know you're jealous.