"This was a mistake."
Last week, I drove my sister-in-law and my girlfriend to get pedicures. The goal was to leave them there to bond with each other, or whatever it is women do when men aren't around. My brother and I planned to kill time somewhere manly, like a dank bar or a bowling alley, but by the time we arrived, the merits of pedicures had been explained to us thoroughly, and when the lady at the front desk asked, "Four?" I immediately said yes. Why not?
What follow are my thoughts during the pedicure:
I hate having my feet touched. Why did I do this?
Didn't I just read an article about how working in one of these places is borderline human trafficking? Why would I say yes? Why would I support such a thing? This was a mistake.
I should look up that article while I'm sitting here.
AGH! WHAT'S MOVING- Oh, this is a massage chair.
Hey. A foot bath. That will be nice.
Oh, someone just dumped that blue stuff they use to clean toilets into my foot bath.
All right. I hope I don't get the weird old guy. He seems chatty.
I don't understand why the maker of this massage chair thought people wanted it to massage their heads. It feels like someone just pushing my skull forward to get me off the chair.