Monday, March 17, 2014

Thieves R Us

While visiting Utah and having a very willing babysitter (MIL) at my disposal, I decided to have a "Treat. Yo. Self." afternoon.

But I'm poor so a massage was out, and I'm mormon so mimosas were too. I was, however, the proud new owner of some fine leather goods, a kick-A vegan (read: fake) leather jacket that Stephen gifted me for my birthday. I threw it on with my sassiest heals and drove Mary's (MIL's) car to Pinky Nail Salon for a manicure, and looking forward to some indulgence.

I enjoyed thirty minutes of listening to the manicurist cough up a lung and telling me how sick she felt while she held my hands and shared my oxygen. She also berated me when I accidentally chipped one of my nails on the side of the gel dryer thing. But she did do an excellent job turning my nails the perfect shade of pink, lending just the right amount of soft to my cut-a-b outfit. The overall effect was fierce. Like Angelina in ____________ (name an Angelina Jolie movie) but shorter and blonder and less cheek-boney and flat-chested. And without a gun. But totally fierce.

If there's any time when looking fierce will be a disservice, it's when you may be suspected of a crime. Which is kind of what happened next.

The thing about driving a car not your own is that it's usually full of surprises. Cup holders in weird places, a seat you don't know how to adjust, or an extremely sensitive alarm, like Mary's.

Mary has four sons, so the license plate on her Volvo reads "BOYSRUS". When I tried to unlock the car and the alarm blared, everyone in the crowded parking lot turned to see me dressed like a member of Hells Angels, trying to break into a car that obviously belongs to a mother.

After what felt like twenty minutes, I managed to unlock the car and turn the ignition, silencing the BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. Then I took the jacket off so I wouldn't match the description of anyone who called the police reporting the burglary.

Maybe for Treat. Yo. Self. 2015 I'll stick with clothes and fragrances. And my own vehicle.


  1. That's basically my experience every time I go to the nail salon. Plus, a few comments about waxing my lip and "taking care of those eyebrows." Good times.


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