Sassy Quack
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Rituals of Womanhood
Recently, I experienced one of the big girl rituals of womanhood for the first time--the mani-pedi. While I consider it a victory that I managed to accomplish this prior to the age of 30, it is apparently horrifying to my fellow women that I had never before rushed off to have my feet attacked with sandpaper by a total stranger. Feeling a bit trepidacious about the whole thing, I did what any self respecting woman would do--I booked a double appointment with my mommy. Now, considering the fact that my salary forces me, at times, to subsist solely on Mrs. Grass, it was necessary to experience this womanly rite at the local Aveda school. This has worked well in the land of hair care...so how different could it be?
WELL...upon our arrival, we were lead to our manicure stations in the "spa". Perhaps I don't understand the definition of "spa" but I certainly didn't think it meant "moldering, windowless storage room". Still, we sat down, and gave it a go. Had my manicurist gone to college, she surely would have been one of those annoying cookie cutter sorority girls that I avoided like the plague during my school years...so naturally, I despised her on the spot. I was at first jealous of my mother's draw who seemed to have a much more interesting personality...until it became glaringly clear that she had experimented with one too many drugs in her day. Nothing creates a relaxing spa atmosphere like a beauty student who alternates between spouting off about the school's use of the slave labor of their students and tales of waxing the buttholes of men at her day job.
The very best part of the experience was the pair of "spa" sandals which merrily disintegrated mid-aisle when I stopped at Blockbuster on the way home. I DID manage to keep my nailpolish on for a whole 24 hours before it chipped and I was compulsively forced to peel it all off...so that was a small victory. Still, I had expected greater things...like violins and massaging whirlpool foot baths...and results that left me looking dainty and perfect.
My apologies to Elle Woods, but the next time I have an emotional crisis, I highly doubt I will go rushing off to soak my fingertips in anyone's bowl of glorified dishwashing liquid for relief. That is what chocolate is for.
Helllooo Snickers,
Sassy Quack
Recently, I experienced one of the big girl rituals of womanhood for the first time--the mani-pedi. While I consider it a victory that I managed to accomplish this prior to the age of 30, it is apparently horrifying to my fellow women that I had never before rushed off to have my feet attacked with sandpaper by a total stranger. Feeling a bit trepidacious about the whole thing, I did what any self respecting woman would do--I booked a double appointment with my mommy. Now, considering the fact that my salary forces me, at times, to subsist solely on Mrs. Grass, it was necessary to experience this womanly rite at the local Aveda school. This has worked well in the land of hair care...so how different could it be?
WELL...upon our arrival, we were lead to our manicure stations in the "spa". Perhaps I don't understand the definition of "spa" but I certainly didn't think it meant "moldering, windowless storage room". Still, we sat down, and gave it a go. Had my manicurist gone to college, she surely would have been one of those annoying cookie cutter sorority girls that I avoided like the plague during my school years...so naturally, I despised her on the spot. I was at first jealous of my mother's draw who seemed to have a much more interesting personality...until it became glaringly clear that she had experimented with one too many drugs in her day. Nothing creates a relaxing spa atmosphere like a beauty student who alternates between spouting off about the school's use of the slave labor of their students and tales of waxing the buttholes of men at her day job.
The very best part of the experience was the pair of "spa" sandals which merrily disintegrated mid-aisle when I stopped at Blockbuster on the way home. I DID manage to keep my nailpolish on for a whole 24 hours before it chipped and I was compulsively forced to peel it all off...so that was a small victory. Still, I had expected greater things...like violins and massaging whirlpool foot baths...and results that left me looking dainty and perfect.
My apologies to Elle Woods, but the next time I have an emotional crisis, I highly doubt I will go rushing off to soak my fingertips in anyone's bowl of glorified dishwashing liquid for relief. That is what chocolate is for.
Helllooo Snickers,
Sassy Quack
Mourning
Today is a very sad day. I just polished off the last bit of my Morley's Peanut Butter Block. I've been storing it in the freezer since I received it as a Christmas gift from my aunt...carefully rationing it...block by block...until today when the last vestiges of peanut buttery goodness disappeared into my stomach. In the days before the internet ruled the earth, the only way to get such a delightful treat was to hope a neighborhood child would come by peddling them door to door once a year. Now, I could purchase mass quantities online and gorge myself until the teeth rot from my head...but this would diminish the glory of the yearly Morley's treat....not to mention the fact that I really can't afford the new wardrobe I'd have to buy when I suddenly put on 50lbs. So today--Morley's Peanut Butter Block, I mourn thee.
Hoping to see that special orange box next Christmas,
Sassy Quack
Today is a very sad day. I just polished off the last bit of my Morley's Peanut Butter Block. I've been storing it in the freezer since I received it as a Christmas gift from my aunt...carefully rationing it...block by block...until today when the last vestiges of peanut buttery goodness disappeared into my stomach. In the days before the internet ruled the earth, the only way to get such a delightful treat was to hope a neighborhood child would come by peddling them door to door once a year. Now, I could purchase mass quantities online and gorge myself until the teeth rot from my head...but this would diminish the glory of the yearly Morley's treat....not to mention the fact that I really can't afford the new wardrobe I'd have to buy when I suddenly put on 50lbs. So today--Morley's Peanut Butter Block, I mourn thee.
Hoping to see that special orange box next Christmas,
Sassy Quack
Why a Blog?
A girlfriend recently scoffed at the idea of posting one's thoughts for the amusement of strangers. I've decided though that this is taking a rather narrow view of the possibilities of this outlet. I realized that this would be a fabulous outlet for the stresses of daily life. I'm finding that unexpressed, these tend to build up to levels that provoke the desire for great misfortune to befall all who cross my path. Knowing that someone else might *gasp* read this forces me to think a bit more about what I write...which is a bit more useful than the un-analyzed stream of consciousness in a diary. SO...if a few strangers end up amused, that is hardly the worst thing that could happen. I could Frisbee my dinnerware into oncoming traffic.
Wondering why blogger spellcheck doesn't recognize the word "Blog",
Sassy Quack
A girlfriend recently scoffed at the idea of posting one's thoughts for the amusement of strangers. I've decided though that this is taking a rather narrow view of the possibilities of this outlet. I realized that this would be a fabulous outlet for the stresses of daily life. I'm finding that unexpressed, these tend to build up to levels that provoke the desire for great misfortune to befall all who cross my path. Knowing that someone else might *gasp* read this forces me to think a bit more about what I write...which is a bit more useful than the un-analyzed stream of consciousness in a diary. SO...if a few strangers end up amused, that is hardly the worst thing that could happen. I could Frisbee my dinnerware into oncoming traffic.
Wondering why blogger spellcheck doesn't recognize the word "Blog",
Sassy Quack
posted by SassyQuack # 9:02 PM
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