On the dangers of pedicures, oil changes, lawyers and fish

Today is a day off for me. I'm not very good at taking vacation days without a real purpose, but with the upcoming move and my quick jump between old and new jobs, I'm a bit fearful of a major burnout. Plus, I told myself I'd be productive, get out of procrastinator mode and take care of business.

I started by doing my toenails.

I've never been very good at the girlier of life's tasks. Nailpainting is one of them. I'd put cash money on my friend's 6 year old daughter doing a better job on my nails than I could. Toenails are a little easier, but they pose their own challenges. Still, the lesson I took when I visited my mom back in June seemed to help. Forcing myself to sit still for an hour after and using polish that wasn't 5 years old seems to have helped as well.

This is relevant to my story, I swear.

My tasks for the day included dropping off clothing donations, getting an oil change, going to the bank, picking up my Rx, and buying a gift for my college roommate's baby shower. More on my disbelief that the girl who couldn't figure out how to open a fancy block of cheese with me one Saturday night in '00 is having a baby in just bit.

I've owned a car for just over a year now and for the first few months I was most diligent about its care. I've really started to slack, though, as I've learned that care = money and a bright red target seems to appear on my head every time I walk into Midas or Jiffy Lube. It's the Sucker Signal.

But the oil change could be put off no longer, and as I nervously made my way to Hasbro like "customer view" computer screen, I could see things were adding up. I said yes to two add-ons, and no to one, opting for what Mazda recommended and what seemed to actually address a problem. In general I avoid the charges when they say, "We recommend you change this every 10,000 miles." I have two guiding forces in my life. One of them is a craving for cheese. The other is Mazda. Buddha Jiffy Lube has no street cred with me. So, $217 later, my hope is the Blue Bandit is prepped for multiple trips to Raleigh in the coming weeks.

I took a seat in their newly tricked out waiting room and wondered if these "recommendations" were actually an attempt to fund the flat screen LCD I was watching and the new subscriptions to Highlights and US Weekly. I sat in peace until a burly gentleman walked in with what appeared to be a week's worth of paperwork and a few notepads. Apparently he was going to be productive as hell in the 20 minutes it takes to get a Signature Service Oil Change.

He walked in and out of the waiting room making phone calls. On one trip in he looked at me as if I'd been waiting to talk to him, "Sorry about that," he said, "I have a lot of work calls to make and I don't want to disturb you with them." "No, no, that's fine,"I replied.

He took a seat next to me. "You have very pretty feet."

Oh no.

There are a lot of ways to approach a woman, guys, but foot comments scream one thing: ALERT! ALERT! FETISH APPROACHING! FETISH APPROACHING! STEP AWAY FROM THE CREEPY MAN!

At first I was caught off guard, as I do not have pretty feet. Now, I'm not just being a Debbie Downer, as I have some lovely attributes, I just know for a fact that my feet aren't one of them. Still, as I looked at them again, I really did do a pretty good job.

"I noticed them because I was in a salon the other day visiting the owner who wanted some franchise advice. I'm a lawyer, by the way."

It's moments like this that being engaged rules. I suddenly had to run my fingers through my hair with my left hand and, oops, there's my ring!

Soon enough he mentioned his wife and I relaxed. Ok, he's not after me, he's just after an ear to listen to him sound impressive. That's fine.

He proceeded to tell me about this salon owner and the "fish treatment" he's been using on his clients and it's all the rage. Two friends, each from different coasts on the US, sent me an article on this same guy earlier in the week. Basically, part of the pedicure they offer includes having tiny little fish nibble the dead skin off of your feet. I know, I could gag. Still, people are trying it and loving it. And we wonder why our country lags behind in achievement.

He left to take another call and my car was ready. As I got in and put on my seatbelt, Mr. Lawyer Man approached me. "You should really check that place I was telling you about out! You'll love it." "Ok, thanks for the tip!" "Oh, and if you ever need a lawyer," he handed me a pen, "my contact information is all there."

Makes me wonder if he ever even needed the oil change.