Nails, Liquor, Cars

Two weekends ago, I found myself at a nail salon for the first time in about seven years. I used to get my nails done all the time when I lived in Madison. It was my girlie indulgence back when I was working, but I've long since gotten used to my short, stumpy natural nails.
The occasion was a birthday, I was invited to a get-together which started at the salon, and later ended at a karaoke place. I had quite a few drinks on board, and I even picked a song, but once again, I was still too chicken to try to sing. That said, I had a great time, and I'm glad I went along. I knew one person fairly well, knew the birthday gal a little bit, and didn't really know anybody else there. Which, for me, are usually prime ingredients for a major attack of "shy". But I overcame it. The booze did help quite a bit, though..
So then I had long, pretty, fake nails for about two weeks. They felt so strange, I couldn't believe that this used to be my "normal". They were longer that I normally got, though, and I could tell that the lady who did them did not have the skill of my regular gal back in Madison. Maybe I'll look her up and treat myself when I'm there for Wiscon.

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