To all my gal friends, who want fake fingernails – this is a warning. I had to go to a 50th birthday party for Pheenie McQuiggan, one of my dearest friends. Now Pheenie, I must tell you, is nothing like me and what I mean is, she has always lived in the big city, while I have mostly lived in the original homestead that my great grand-daddy built, just in front of the old barn that houses our dear farm animals. Pheenie has always made it a point to get her manicures and pedicures to lift her spirits, while the only cure I could manage was to get me a huge dose of Buckleys cough syrup, so I could help Clem with the chores.
So now folks you know why I decided that I had better get pretty gussied up for this party. I really did need one of those extreme makeovers that I see on TV. The first thing I needed to do was to have one of those manicure things.
When I got to the nail shop, I noticed that people in there had masks on, and were buzzing away on people’s fingers with what looked like a drill. I was sure I had the wrong place and was about ready to bolt, when a man asked my name. When I told him and said I was just in for a nail job, he sat me down in a chair and the gal on the other side, after looking again at my hand, told me there wasn’t much they could do, other than glue some false fingernails on. I decided I would go for whatever that was.
I strutted out of there admiring my finished nails and headed towards my truck. I had never seen such beauty. I realized my keys were somewhere in my purse, and proceeded to dig them out. Now folks when you’re used to stubby fingernails and now you have prongs at the end of your fingers, you have no idea how hard it is to do anything. After chipping some of my new polish and design off, I reached my keys, jumped in my truck and away we went home.
I was driving into our lane, when I noticed a blank spot on one of my nails. The new nail was nowhere to be found! After a frantic no-luck search, I ran into the house to call that salon again and get it fixed. As I went to get my jacket off, I noticed my disappeared nail hanging from the jacket shoulder by a wee thread. I yanked on the handle of the cupboard drawer, to get some of that crazy glue stuff, when another nail went flying through the air. Holy cow, what the heck, (really the language was much stronger) I thought as I raced after it and caught it before it landed in my apple pie.
The next thing was getting dressed. I gingerly put on Sunday meeting dress. I had to take that off, because I couldn’t manage the darn buttons. Now I didn’t have a choice, I had to put on my purple sundress and red cardigan, (saved for the Red Hat occasions). I couldn’t put on my face as those nails just wouldn’t hold that darn tube of lipstick, or spread the brown makeup around enough to hide my wrinkles. So off I went.
When I finally arrived at the party and was seated, one of the guests was giving a speech. It was sort of boring, so I rested my head on my hand. I noticed people were staring somewhat and saw that one of my nails was pointed in an odd direction, having come loose I guess from the weight of my head. I quickly pressed it back in place.
Soup was served in fancy bowls, and when I went to push a piece of my straggling hair back into place, one of those darn nails caught, zoomed and plunked itself into the soup of the man across the table. When I went to help him get it out, he pushed my hand aside, those long prongs caught the side of a candle and sent it flying and without some quick thinking on Pheenie’s part, might have burned the table away. I left.
I guess, if there was a lesson here to be learned it would be, glue those boogers down solid like before you do anything else, or just be yourself. Klara