I'm special

I from time to time have to force myself to remember just how fabulous and special I am.  Today was one of those days where I made "fabulous happen."  I got off of work and headed to the nail salon...there is very little as wonderful as a pedicure (my last pedicure was in February--I maintain things the best I can in the shower to save money).  My feet hurt all the time these days...I'm still searching for the perfect pair of comfortable shoes to counteract the 1.7 million square feet of warehouse floor I walk daily... add my weight (which is my next project to work on... if I can survive the last couple of weeks of school) it equals aches and pains...

While my feet were soaking I got a wild hair up my ass and decided that in addition to the pedicure, I needed a manicure as well...Yes folks, My name is Tommy and today I have matching finger and toenails, lol.  It's so cute seeing my lil nubby nails painted (I'm a nail biter...but hello the short nails are a necessity for the "fun factor" in my life)...

I opted for a coral color (an OPI shade called something like Conga-line Coral or something)... totally out of character but dammit if felt good.  While my nails were drying I got cornered by an older woman who was like isn't your last name such and such....um, yeah... I thought I knew you she said.  Turns out she remembers me from church.  She then proceeded in asking about Gma and the family and this and that and invited me back to church.  Mind you I haven't been to this church in a LONG LONG LONG time. 

(side note:  This is a very uptight Southern Baptist Church.  I was one of the founders of their youth group, did the missions trips, the works...well in 1999 my mom's youngest brother, my uncle charley (who my sister's baby is to be named after) killed himself.  He had a history of psychological issues, he was paranoid schizophrenic, wrote a suicide note, hid it, robbed a cab at gunpoint and lead police on a high speed chase...it ultimately ended with him shooting himself...it was tragic and we all took it really hard, especially my mom.  He was only 4 years older than me and one of the coolest people in the world....(there is a point to all of this)  So we are sitting as a family in church one Sunday shortly following his death... I was already getting pissed at the people in the church because they'd give my mom a hard time for letting me paint my nails crazy color...(she'd always tell the blue haired old ladies to "bite her" saying that you know, it's not like she's doing crack)..and they figured I was going to burst into flames upon walking through the threshold of the church after getting my first tattoo... anyway... on this particular sunday the preacher stood in front of the congregation and announced that the churches thoughts and prayers were with my family, for our recent loss of Charley, (are you ready for it?) WHO IS NOW ROASTING IN HELL AFTER TAKING HIS OWN LIFE.

Um, are you fucking kidding me.  So needless to say the whole "gay" thing (which in their minds is just a phase that they pray I'll get bored with) I don't waste my time going there.  I have my own thoughts on religion and my own relationship with a higher power...I don't need to go to a physical church to have it. But I digress.  The moral of the story is I smiled and made conversation with the lady but I decided a long time ago that it didn't matter who the preacher was at the time, the congregation was still there and I can do something better than be judged on my damn day off, lol.  On a scale of 1 to 10 of the likelihood of me voluntarily ever attending that church again is like a -5.

The humorous part of my day was the fact that the refrigerator in my office died a few months ago.  I was tired of looking at this table top monstrosity so I loaded in my car to take to the dump after work and my pedicure.  In the process of getting it in the trunk I SCRATCHED MY FUCKING BUMPER.  Fuck. Then the damn trunk wouldn't close so I had to put it in the passenger seat.  Fucking a.

Well after my pedicure, the dude made me leave on those disposable flip flops they give you because I had come in with sneakers from work and they didn't want me to jack up my toenails.  So I Get to the dump and all dainty like (which just makes me laugh BECAUSE THIS IS SOOOOO NOT ME) I prance to the passenger side, carefully opening the door to not chip my nail polish, pick up the fridge, and carefully glide across the pavement with my pink faux flip flops trying to not drop a fridge on my freshly painted toes...I successfully put it in the correct disposal area and prance back to the car swaying uncharacteristically while swishing my hands about as if if the air touched them they'd smudge.

I mean damn, I know I'm special and all, but when the hell did I become such a fucking girl?

I'm glad tomorrow is Friday.