My roommate and I went to get manicures tonight. Kind of random for a Tuesday night, but hey, we're random kinda people. I had a gift card for the spa next to my townhouse that was about to expire so I thought I better use it up. I meant to use it for a massage last May after the Flying Pig marathon, but accidently scheduled it at another spa... I'm a bit flakey sometimes.
The girls kept trying to convince us that we needed to start coming on a weekly basis. Right... This is more of special occassion thing for me, not a necessity. I live in one of the richest counties in the state and often, little things like this, reminds me that I should probably live somewhere else. I've been thinking about buying something, but I'd be lucky to afford a box around here.
In between conversation of weekly manicures and how the one girls' cousin, who is a model, once dated Fabio (although he does nothing for me, my response was, "I hate beautiful people."), the girls also tried to talk us into pedicures. No one would ever want to touch my feet! As my fellow runners will agree, our toenails aren't exactly pretty. Plus, I have a weird thing about feet. Not so much people touching mine, but I freak out when other people's feet touch me!!!! Not that their feet would touch me, but I think I would think about it the whole time and ruin the experience.
We capped off the night with a glass of wine. Note, I said a glass of wine. Usually our spontaneous wine nights consists of opening several bottles...