Craptastic

I'm painting my toenails for tomorrow, except I don't know why because I'll be wearing stockings and closed shoes. I'm also missing the nails completely because the lights are off and I don't see the point of painting them in the first place anyway. There's nothing remotely attractive about red toes. Or feet. Or knees. We'll see how badly the aiming is in a second.

I go through alternate phases with my nails. Not so much the ones on my toes because I'm not very particular about my feet and often neglect them at my own expense (i.e. when they find themselves in stilettos or on someone's shoulders). Fingernails, however, share with me a passionate love-hate relationship. I've been known to splash out up to $80 on a single visit to the nail salon. I've also been known to leave them growing jaggedly, yellowing at the tip and half-covered in chipped purple polish.

Nails are high maintenance beings. I can't believe I just called my nails "beings" but whatever.

I'd gladly sacrifice half a day's pay per month on rounded french powder gels if not for two major interfering factors:

• The speed at which nails grow when you least want them to
• The state of them after several acrylic or gel sessions

By the end of the second or third set my nails would be so weak that I once sliced the tip off with a business card. At this stage the only thing I can do is to wait about a month for them to strengthen before painting, filing, or running back to the salon for another acrylics set. During this waiting period I look like I have bits of thin grey bark growing from the tips of my fingers, and this doesn't sit well with me.

Dr. LeWinn has this supposedly award-winning nail treatment called Revitanail for this kind of thing. But that sets me back another $30 and I'll have to wait it out anyway.

This post serves purely the purpose of giving me something to do while waiting for the top coat to dry. I understand if you possess a penis you either have stroked out of boredom or are a flaming homosexual.