I swear, this is a post about fingernails.

Quite frankly, the purpose of this blog is to write about the more bizarre things in life. I haven't been writing much lately simply because:

• Around Tuesday, I lost any will power to do anything.
• With that, I've just been extremely lazy in general.
• In fact I haven't done any homework assignments.
• All I wanted to do was hang out with friends. Because, let's be honest here: once you make the decision to stick it to the man, you try to make the most out of life. Which means not doing anything you don't want to do.
• Which almost got me into trouble.

The good thing is, this post isn't about all of that drama. I've decided to be happy with....whatever...and I've also decided again that grades should hold some amount of importance in my life, and that I probably got the better end of the deal anyways, if I want to continue with my "doing the least amount of work for the most amount of satisfaction" then being an editor for journalism probably wouldn't fit that criteria. Or something.

In other words, I am completely indifferent to everything that happened this week. And though I still hate all people and all things, MORP and Conference actually brightened my week/situation/life a lot. Actually Morp was really fun. I would blog about it...but yeah. Okay, maybe I will. I blog about all dates. That's a lie. Oh world, I'm rambling.

The point is, this post is actually about the first time I got a manicure. I promise. So after that lengthy, angsty introduction, let us begin.

I know, it's crazy. I'm 16 and I've never had my nails done. I lead a deprived life. I've never had a pedicure done too. I've never been to Disneyland either, but I've vented enough about that.

So when my mom was like, "Kaela, what shall we do while the men folk are at priesthood session?" I told her we should get our nails done. I was planning on getting them done for prom and I wanted to see what it was like.

Oh, world. It was such a bizarre experience.

First off, had I done things over, I would have insisted that we get pedicures. Because apparently if you get a pedicure you get a footbath and you get to sit in a massage chair.

For me, I was placed in a moderately comfortable, semi-rolly chair. I chose the color blue because I hoped it would last perfectly for three weeks until prom so I wouldn't have to do my nails again. It's not gonna happen, but it was worth a shot and I like the color. So there.

First the girl had me dunk my fingers in a fancy looking heart shaped bowl. And I wondered how guys feel if they are getting their nails done. Do they just get a plain, round bowl? To preserve their manliness?

Since I've never had my nails done, and quite frankly I don't take as good care of them as I should, my nails were a mess. So she pulled out several lethal looking tools/weapons, and got to work on my nails. Some of it was painful, most of it was just intriguing. But mostly I just felt awkward.

See, all of the people in there were Chinese. So they would talk to each other in Chinese. So while I was sitting there, getting my nails all fixed up, the girl would talk to who I assume was her mother in Chinese. And I could only guess she was saying something like "Mom! This girl's nails are so gross! This is the worst job ever!" to which her mom would reply "Stop complaining! At least she isn't some creepy dude!" because I can imagine the worst part about being a nail salon lady would be dealing with the toenails of men. Yeesh. Almost in the same way the worst part about working at 7 Peaks was seeing fat men in speedos. Oh, scarred.

Actually, the girl was pretty nice. Except she didn't talk hardly at all, only to tell me to relax my hands a couple of times and that she liked the color of my nails.

I would say the weirdest part of this was when I got attacked. And I kid you not, I literally got attacked.

The second we walked into the little shop, I about had a heart attack. Because I thought a large rat came bolting towards us, when on a second glance I realized it was the teeniest chihuahua I've ever seen. So it was cute and friendly and even though it was a drop kick dog I still loved it, because I love all dogs. Even my own dog, strangely enough.

Fast forward back to when I was getting my nails done. I was sitting there waiting for them to dry, when I felt something tugging at my foot. I looked down and the little dog was determined on eating the zipper on my shoe. (my trashy zipper flats, don't judge.) So I pulled my foot away, but the little drop kick was determined. It went from one shoe to the next, and I was flinging my feet left and right trying to prevent my shoes from getting destroyed.

Somewhere in the feet flinging and the dog going crazy at my feet, I accidentally kicked it in the head.

It yelped and flopped over for a little bit, and then stood up and started chasing it's little tail. I was about 80% sure I had just given it brain damage or something. Then it sat down at my feet and wagged it's tail and looked up and panted at me like I was it's new best friend. This is why I love dogs. If someone kicked me in the head, I wouldn't instantly love them. I would probably be pretty mad. But it did end up keeping it's distance from me from then on, though occasionally it would come over and nip at my shoe for a little bit, and then run away.

The weirdest thing? The owners of the dog just sat there laughing while the dog was attacking me! I'm seriously like 99% sure that the girl who did my nails was sitting there checking her facebook while her little dog was trying, violently, to consume one of my favorite pairs of shoes.

After that, I pretty much had to sit there for an eternity waiting for the paint to dry, and then we left.

Will I ever get my nails done again? Yeah, probably for Prom, Senior Ball, and then my wedding. Actually, I didn't hate it at all. It does feel really nice to have someone do something for you that you could easily do for yourself. (But, ladies, let's be honest. It's a pain in the butt to paint your nails on your right hand. Am I right?)

But next time, I'm getting a pedicure. Because, DANG, I could use a massage.

Peace!