The Problem with Nail Salons

My neighborhood is walk-friendly, by which I mean, there are sidewalks, storefronts, and minimal parking lots.

Since the area is so walk-friendly, the boyfriend and I don’t have a car. The grocery is three blocks one way, the vet’s office four blocks another, the gym is right around the corner, and out our front door, bars as far as the eye can see.

I have 20/20 vision, so that’s pretty damn far, Muthafucka.

(Aside. – I’m not calling you a Muthafucka, this is what I call everyone when I’m out at the bars. It’s exactly the same as when your Grandpa called you “Champ” because he couldn’t remember which of the grandkids you were. If this bursts the loving memory bubble of Gramps, I should also let you know that when he said, “Champ” he meant, “Muthafucka.” Your Grandpa was one bad-ass mofo and you should appreciate him for that. But I digress…)

Nail salons are a staple in my neighborhood. Whether I’m going east, west, north, or south, I have to pass a nail salon. And while advertised as a nail salon, they also offer a variety of other spa services, such as waxing, massage, and make-up services.

All of this is well and good, because to the best of my knowledge, there aren’t any human trafficked sugar waxers providing happy endings that we need to worry about. And really, isn’t that the trifecta of human bondage we should all be concerned with?

The problem with the nail salons are not the mani-pedis, eye shadowing, foot descaling, or misspelled signage. The problem is the large signs announcing that these locations offer “FACIALS;” for every time we approach one of these signs, the boyfriend becomes irritated and grumbly.

She looks so HAPYY!

I can hear you asking why would a simple spa service, meant to help reduce crater sized pores, created by excessive drinking and liver cirrhosis, bother the boyfriend? Doesn’t he have a heart? Doesn’t he realize the pickled liver people need love too?

It annoys him, because every time we walk by a salon with a big sign that says “FACIALS,” I giggle.

And then I whisper, “Bukkake.”

If you’re uncertain what I’m referring to when I write “Facials” and “Bukkake,” Google them. On your work computer. Preferably while hooked into a projector. In front of your boss. Make sure to play the video.

For added fun, include “Gay” in your search term.

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Posted on October 5, 2012, in Quirks and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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