MANicure

yesterday afternoon my yin took me for a manicure, and i was greeted by a nail technician named Cassandra. although she speaks no Spanish, she is prone to psychic translations of expletive utterances made to her co-workers. upon hearing this, i spoke (vaguely) of Trojan prophecy and the Apollonian curse of lovers scorned, but my own Cassandra was more interested in comparing our own mythologies.

i soon learned about her service in the first Gulf War, where she dug Kuwaiti sand pits and filled them with kerosene and human feces, a small stinky pyre polluting the arid desert winds. but this is beside the point.

the point is that she asked me if i had ever had a manicure before, to which i responded no. she looked me deep in the eyes and smiled.

"don't be scared. it's called a MANicure."