--BLANK--

This is the PonyG's first snail encounter.  She was gobsmacked (I love that word).  Could barely get out the door.   Once outside she could not make eye contact with it for fear of provoking an attack.  

Thankfully, no fatalities occurred during this photo shoot.

 

Yes this is just a feeble attempt at a blog post due to a muddled mind as of late.  I suspect I will be reprimanded hotly by my total lack of regard for 

blogging in general.

But, sometimes you just have to put it out there to get things rolling again.

 

! pick colour !

What would a trip to the 'big city'  (that would be Vancouver) be, without a visit  to the mani-pedi hovel/spa?  Well, it just wouldn't be complete without that sweet experience of getting yelled at as soon as you pass the threshold of ....'Total Nail' or 'Tips Top Nail' or 'Lovely Pretty Nail'   or....you know what I'm talking about.   It is always the same shout out of   "pick colour!" and then again a little louder if you are too slow,   "PICK COLOUR!".   Okay, okay, so under duress you grab 2 bottles because you just can't decide so fast.   Apparently, our  'nail technicians'  are in quite a rush to service the other patrons-in-waiting (none that we can see)  in the shop.  Anyway, as soon as you have your 2 bottles clutched in your unmanicured claws  you are ordered to "sit here" and then again because you aren't quite clued in to the accent (come on now,  you know its true)...you are shouted at again  "SIT HEEERE".    Okay, okay you sit and then immediately the massage chair is turned on full throttle and you are ordered to put your feet into the too-hot water and then your technician and her pal (your girlfriend's tech) begin their private conversation  that effectively excludes any english-only speakers.   Of course, you can only assume because of their chuckles that they are totally talking about their current so very annoying customers.  In the meantime,  you are desperately trying to control the banging, rolling and shaking of the massage chair.  Once you get the chair under some control you can kind of settle in for a moment or two of enjoyment, but, only for a moment because so very soon the surgery begins.    Meanwhile their conversing/gossiping  never ends except for every once in awhile an order is barked (in english) to you to do...something?...and of course it must be repeated because we are a pathetic people. 
      There is cutting and jabbing and rinsing and massaging and so it goes.  Then comes the time for the 'colour!' and you have to decide between the two that you were rushed into picking and of course, you are not in love with either,  but getting up and choosing another one in NOT an option so you just resign yourself to one.   With any luck at all,  once its applied you actually like it (!)  because if not,  there will be much rumination and regret to follow.     This is  always followed by  a comparison about who got the better job--you or your friend.   It's always  your friend.