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The Queen of Mean
One shrink I went to before once told me that the more people profess something that they are, that's when you know, it's what they're not.
So, does this mean I'm not really that evil?
But I am.
Case in point: Last Sunday, hubby and I went to the salon to get our feet scrubbed and nails trimmed and cleaned. The salon was packed so we had to wait until someone was available. However, this receptionist dude/dette told us that someone will be coming shortly and that we should make ourselves comfortable.
Someone did come to soak our footsies into the tub. However, an hour and a half later, our footsies, now resembling giant flesh colored prunes, are still neglected. Of course I complained, saying that we could've waited for someone to really focus on our feet before they god damned soaked it.
Thirty more minutes later, an ugly statuesque parlorista came and finally gave my hubby the foot spa he deserved. But wait... he's just the foot scrubber, not the pedicurist. We waited for another hour before someone took care of the "claws".
Moi, on the other hand, had this old lady as my pedicurist. Lemme tell you, when she came over, I was scared. Not "I'll get over this" scared, I mean "Holy shit. She's doing my nails? Are you sure" scared.
She looked like Yzma. I was waiting for Kronk to come in and pull the lever. (Look up Emperor's New Groove) I looked at hubby and whispered "What will I do to Kuzco? I know! I'll turn him into a flea, a worthless little flea. And I'll put that flea into a box, and put that box into another box and mail the package to me. And when it arrives, I'll smash it with a hammer!"
He looks at me, looks at "Yzma" and suppresses a giggle.
"You know, there's a special place in hell for people like you."
"What??!!! I'm just saying she looks like her"
He rolls his eyes and goes back to his magazine.
Meanwhile, I keep playing the movie in my head and giggle.
So, does this mean I'm not really that evil?
But I am.
Case in point: Last Sunday, hubby and I went to the salon to get our feet scrubbed and nails trimmed and cleaned. The salon was packed so we had to wait until someone was available. However, this receptionist dude/dette told us that someone will be coming shortly and that we should make ourselves comfortable.
Someone did come to soak our footsies into the tub. However, an hour and a half later, our footsies, now resembling giant flesh colored prunes, are still neglected. Of course I complained, saying that we could've waited for someone to really focus on our feet before they god damned soaked it.
Thirty more minutes later, an ugly statuesque parlorista came and finally gave my hubby the foot spa he deserved. But wait... he's just the foot scrubber, not the pedicurist. We waited for another hour before someone took care of the "claws".
Moi, on the other hand, had this old lady as my pedicurist. Lemme tell you, when she came over, I was scared. Not "I'll get over this" scared, I mean "Holy shit. She's doing my nails? Are you sure" scared.
She looked like Yzma. I was waiting for Kronk to come in and pull the lever. (Look up Emperor's New Groove) I looked at hubby and whispered "What will I do to Kuzco? I know! I'll turn him into a flea, a worthless little flea. And I'll put that flea into a box, and put that box into another box and mail the package to me. And when it arrives, I'll smash it with a hammer!"
He looks at me, looks at "Yzma" and suppresses a giggle.
"You know, there's a special place in hell for people like you."
"What??!!! I'm just saying she looks like her"
He rolls his eyes and goes back to his magazine.
Meanwhile, I keep playing the movie in my head and giggle.
