Nail Horror

I feel I should start by stating the obvious: Women love gettin' their nails done. Yep, it's just one of those body maintenance things that is (1) relaxing and (2) enjoyable both during and after they're done. In most cases anyway....

Mom and I decided to indulge in a little "me" time yesterday and get our manicures and pedicures together. Mom ended up having to work later than planned, so we ventured to a new nail salon closer to her office. For those of you avid nail maintenance individuals such as myself, you know how timid you can be about testing out a new place...it can be dangerous.

So there we are comfortably relaxing in our nice massage chairs while our feet start soaking...ahhhhh! Then the nail technician approaches and asks, "what color you like?" As I happily reply with a french pedicure, she smiles and begins the hour-long process. Under normal circumstances you can sit back and relax, enjoy the massage and practically fall asleep. Chin (my nail lady) has a misconception about American women I think. It seems she believes pain is a plus during this experience.

My feet hate me right now! They look pretty, sure, but every step after that was a reminder of our ghastly experience. Chin, with her nail tool that strangely resembled a metal toothpick, went to town on my poor toes. After the first one I thought, "Ok, man-up Evelyn! You can do this." Once she finished my right foot I was hesitant to even bring the left out of the water. Seriously, she grabs my leg and says, "You put foot here!" Timidly, I did as I was told. Hey, I was frightened of what might happen if I didn't...she was holding a weapon you know.

I made it through the pick-of-death and on to the scrubber. Those feet scrubbers aren't normally the most enjoyable things, but the problem I usually face (it tickling me to death) was far from the havoc I went through this time. Chin took every bit of anger out on my innocent appendage. I'm talking I have never seen a 90lb Asian woman work a scrubber in such a manner. My relaxing massage turned into pure torture as my body was taut and beginning to sweat (a normal response to pain).

With my fingers clinched around the edge of the armrests and my back as straight as a board, I glanced over to see if my mother was enjoying her pedicure more so than I. I don't think I can even explain the look on her face. Eyes pinched close, legs drawn, and a simple phrase murmured in my direction, "This doesn't feel good." About that time, her nail technician looks up at her and says, "Ok, give me foot. I not hurt you."

Mom relaxes and allows her to continue. Overall, mom was pleased with the remainder of her visit. Her nail tech must have redeemed herself somehow, because Chin felt no need to ease-up on my feet. So I did what any woman in my position would do, I gave one swift kick (ka-tow!!) and back flies the little lady! :) Kidding of course, I sat there like a push-over would and let her mutilate my precious toes.

She finished the pedicure and on to the hands. I questioned whether or not I should request another technician, but at this point I felt that might be rude (and hey, my feet were killing me...why not add my hands to it?). She sat me down at a nail cubicle and really did a great job on my nails. Maybe feet just aren't her thing; I can understand that.

Then the strangest thing happened. Apparently this nail salon concludes your visit with (what most would normally call) a shoulder/back massage. Chin, with her tiny hands and surprisingly thrustful punches, proceeded to...well...I guess massage my back. Have you ever see WCW? Yeah, wrestling. You know, where they jump on the guy laying on the ground, landing with their elbow on the guys stomach....it was kind of like that, but my back.

After three good whiplashes, I held my hand up and said, "Ok, ok, that's good...thank you." Chin, with her hair falling in her face from the crazy energy it must have taken to do whatever it was she did, brushed her hair back and smiled with a, "Tank you! You come back!"

Yes, I paid (and even left a tip) for that whole thing. I can still see her standing at the door of the salon as I'm trying to run (more like limp) to my car. She's still just a wavin'.

**Note to self: Stick with the salons you know!

Hide-and-Seek

Having siblings is a wonderful thing. Lauren and I were reminiscing the other day (as we so frequently do) about some of our adventures throughout the years. Being the youngest of three girls really puts things into perspective for you. I mean, growing up you have the usual actions that tag you as the youngest: hand-me-downs and a push-over attitude (mainly b/c everything through adolescence was handed to you), but somewhere on the third child disclaimer there must have been some fine print stating: Official guinea pig as needed.

Man, we used to love playing hide-and-seek in the dark. I can remember getting the whole neighborhood together on the weekends right at dusk to start playing. Ah, good times! Though, the most memorable hide-and-seek moment comes from a game between just us Davis girls. This was last year...ok, kidding. I must have been about 8, Leslie was 10, and Lauren was topping out at 13. Old enough to know better.

In accordance with our aberrant adolescent attitudes, we decided against taking the game outside. Instead, we had brilliantly come to the conclusion "inside has way better hiding spots!"

There were always rules (we were way too bossy not to have rules):

1. Upstairs only
2. No turning on the lights
3. Switching spots permitted if the occasion calls for it

So, off go the lights upstairs and there we are, Lauren and I, coordinating our hiding efforts as quickly as possible. Leslie, who was named It right from the get-go (we weren't always the nicest to Leslie...but we love you now! :)), resided in one of the four bedrooms upstairs counting to fifty.

I should probably add that Lauren and I were inseparable growing up. I wanted to do everything she did. So, when it came time to find a hiding spot Lauren was the go-to girl. We scurried around for a good ten seconds before testing the first spot. Shower...no good, b/c the water inevitably got turned on at some point during the hunting process. Under the sink...no good, nowhere to hide all the stuff already under there. Closet...no good, dead giveaway. Behind the door...no good, you're trapped once she suspects the spot. Then Lauren whispers a brilliant idea into my ear, "Evelyn, we're going to hide you in the dryer! It's empty, you're tiny...it's perfect!"

With my perma-grin shining ever so brightly in the dark laundry room, I climbed right in with no other objection except, "Don't forget about me, ok?!" Lauren, in a hasty rush to find her own hiding spot, secures the dryer door and hurries off. After a good five minutes pass I realize that I have the perfect spot! Not only has Leslie not found me, but I've kept her looking for five whole minutes (give or take some time...dryer time goes a lot slower than normal time).

Then, as my cognitive timer strikes the ten minute mark, I start to question my decision. A number of things begin to run through my mind at this point: Am I going to run out of air in here? What if someone turns the dryer on? Are dryers made to open from the inside? Am I going to die in here? Not to mention I had a mental picture of a dog being stuffed into a microwave before exploding (too many scary movies). Driving myself into an eight-year-old ball of dryer fear and fury, I kicked the dryer door open and poked my head out gasping for what I thought was my last breath.

Yes, I did overreact...as most children do, but I'm happy to report none of my fear-induced questions became reality. Although, that would have probably made for a better climax to my story: Then out of nowhere I heard footsteps approaching the dryer...getting closer and closer. Before I could say or do anything I hear the control nob to the dryer clicking past the first cycle and on to the permanent press cycle...dun, dun, dun. With one flick of the wrist I was 75lbs of tumbling flesh headed for a permanent press.

Oh well! I like my ending pretty good seeing that I was the innocent victim experiencing it.

Anyway, to better understand the consequences to these dryer actions, you must understand my parents. Mom and Dad had purchased a new dryer some years before this incident. During their perfect dryer selection, they decided the most user-friendly door would be one that opened like an oven door. So you see, in order for me to climb out of the dryer I had to sit on the door itself. In my opinion, I think there should be a weight limit posted on the dryer door...you know, for situations such as these that may arise.

I think it's obvious at this point what happened...I broke the door. In my defense, I didn't actually break the door off the hinges, I just warped it a little (generously speaking). Ok, so we may have had to rig the door closed with a three foot long piece of wood lodged ever so tightly between the handle and the door jamb for years after that, but a small price to pay for a daughter saved from being dried alive if you ask me.

Needless to say, we got quite the lecture from Mom: "You three are so selfish, you don't think about anyone but yourselves! Just wait until you have kids and they destroy everything you own! See how you like it!" Do to my PG-rated blog, I'm of course leaving out the profanities that were thrown around in that lecture. In retrospect, we deserved it...and a good beating.

I think it is of utmost importance to explain why it is I was left in the dryer for so long. It seems Lauren didn't have enough time to find an adequate hiding spot (due to the time it took to stuff me in the dryer I'm assuming). So, upon the completion of Leslie's counting, Lauren was found and tagged almost immediately. Then, our parents informed us it was time for dinner, so Lauren and Leslie headed downstairs to eat....without me. At least their priorities were exposed early in life.

***Oh, and I forgot to mention that we, the wonderful daughters that we are today, did in fact purchase a new dryer for the folks. This one has a door that opens to the side...just in case. :)

A Conscious Effort

The saga continues! A short break in the action due to a minor syncope episode I had last Monday, but I'm back now! Apparently, dehydration can do some rather interesting things to the human body. You see, I've never really been an avid water drinker. I think about it a good bit, but it turns out that isn't quite enough to maintain homeostasis....who knew? Needless to say, my water drinking negligence came back to haunt me last week.

I woke up last Monday, later than usual, feeling surprisingly well considering the weekend I had. So, I headed downstairs for some coffee and morning convo with the fam. As I'm chatting it up with my mom I start feeling a bit woozy...never a good way to start the week off. So, rather than coffee (I saw no need in jump-starting my heart at that point) I decided to head back upstairs for my shower.

As I reach the top of the staircase my legs get weak and my mouth starts to water. You know the feeling, that oh-crap-I'm-about-to-be-sick-right-here feeling. Worst feeling ever! So I think to myself, "Ok, just make it to your bed and you can sit down and catch your breath." I make it through the door just far enough to flip on the light, then I collapse right there on my bedroom floor. Not kidding. The next thing I know I'm waking up to my mom and sister standing over me going, "Oh my gosh! What happened! Your lip is bleeding! Are you ok?!" Given their panic state, the hard surface, my cold sweats and a bustin' head, I kinda figured out what happened (I should have been a detective). The only thing I could think to do at this point, amongst my confusion, was assume the fetal position.

As I began to regain somewhat of an alert cognitive state, I realized they were talking to me. The only response I could think to give was, "Yeah, I'm good...I just thought I'd chill down here for a while." What a weird morning. Anyway, I took a few minutes to get it together and then resumed my normal getting ready ritual before heading into work. I humbly admit that I still have some war wounds that I'm recovering from: a mild case of carpet burn on my chin (try explaining that one with a serious look on your face), a slice in my lip (apparently I bite on my 5+ foot journey to the floor), and a small knot on my forehead from the end of the bed.

Reluctant to engage in a visit to the doctor, I spent my week recovering from what I've determined was a case of dehydration (since I'm an MD and all). Out all night Friday, sun all day Saturday, and drinks again Sunday night...who wouldn't be dehydrated, right?

CPR

Ah! The pleasures of cardiopulmonary resuscitation. One comment can probably sum up the outcome of my CPR class this week...

Lord help the innocent bystander that is held subject to my heroic CPR efforts.

I'm certified though! :)

This is Henry...he's my CPR buddy (fyi, he resents the idea that most call him a dummy). Let me tell you a little bit about Henry. He's a 32 year old male (obviously, I don't know many females named Henry), Caucasian (well, a pasty tan color), he enjoys long walks on the beach, romantic comedies, the occasional beating of the chest and a light shock if the occasion calls for it. That's right ladies, he's a keeper!

About the class... The actual certification is part of the my class requirements, so it was nice that they took a night to teach the CPR rather than making us attend another class elsewhere. I have come to the conclusion that they do it for kicks. I would...you should have seen some of the people in there.

We started off as usual, video and simple instructions. Did you know that over 900 adults in the US are killed everyday due to sudden cardiac arrest? That's right, we as individuals could be the deciding factor between life and death. That's awesome! I'm doing CPR on everyone, just for the slight chance that I might actually end up saving someone. So, family and friends beware! If you decide to grab a peaceful afternoon nap and wake up to me and my resuscitator mask hovering over your airways, I would consider yourself warned and move as quickly as possible towards the nearest exit. :)

The class covered adult, child and infant CPR. In addition to those stimulating lessons, we also covered first-aid for choking. You guessed it, the infamous Heimlich. This not being my first lesson, I'm sorry to report that I am lacking a funny story for that one. However, I do have an interesting interjection from the past that I will share.

So there we are, myself and several fellow waitstaff members socializing during some down time. This was when I worked at a local bar/restaurant on the weekends, so we always had a good time joshin' it during the slow lunches. Anywho, a friend of mine was the only one of us that had a table at the time. He had a two-top: man and women (both of which were pushin' eighty) and the man had moseyed in pulling his oxygen tank directly behind him. They were quite the cute couple. Chad had delivered their drinks, and their food came shortly after. As we continued our mindless discussion about whatever interesting event took place the night before, Chad noticed the man at the table slightly coughing and looking a bit scared like he may be choking. To add to the scene, the wife was rapidly tapping him on the back (I'm assuming to add some sort of relief to the situation...still not real sure). Chad's face turns white and looks at me with a "what do I do" look on his face. I of course said, "Don't just stand there, go see if he needs help!" At the time I could see that the man was not fully choking, but he was indeed having some difficultly chewing the abnormally large bites he was taking. Chad, on the other hand, obviously couldn't see the situation during his mission to heroic status. He immediately grabbed the man's shoulders and said in a loud, very stern voice of panic, "Are you ok, sir? Are you choking?"

Side note: One key step we learn in these classes is to wait a few seconds to give the victim a chance to reply.

I think he must have gotten caught up in the excitement of it all, b/c he grabbed the old man from behind, strategically placed his foot on the bar stool across from him (for extra leverage), and began what looked from afar like two foreign creatures preforming some sort of exotic mating ritual...one creature considerably older than the other mind you.

That image will forever be burned into my memory bank. This odd experience continued for, I would say, seven good thrusts before the man could squeeze out a, "Stop! Stop! I'm ok!" About that time, Chad sets the fragile old fella down on his chair, wipes the beads of sweat from his brow and hands the man his oxygen mask. We, as onlookers, casually brought our mouths back from the "holy crap" position they were in and started looking for something productive to do before the couple noticed the audience. Before leaving, I did hear Chad say, "Is there anything else I can get for you?" I can only imagine the look of fear on his face after that experience.

Like most events in our lives, there was a valuable lesson learned here: Always be sure the person you're saving needs help! If they don't, just move really quickly before they can say anything.

Weekend Escapades

I thought I would take this post to talk about the Labor Day weekend I had. I should probably preface with the fact that not every weekend goes the way this one did. Normally, I bask in the idea that I spend at least half the weekend being responsible, but something happened...it must have been all the holiday excitement.

So, how about we start with Friday? The obvious occurred: work and a little bit of play. I did the normal routine of up at 4:15am and off to work, but after work my sisters and I had some big plans for dinner and drinks with an old friend (a previous babysitter actually). We had so much fun catching up with her! I have to throw in that she had a huge impact on our molding process as individuals. Although, I won't say she's completely to blame for the wild women we have become today, but she had a lot to do with it. ;)

So after partying with Kim Friday night, my sisters and I headed out. Not really sure where to go, we defaulted to Wild Bills. (Side note: We have recently decided to change that default) Not enjoying ourselves to the fullest of our ability, we decided to leave after one song, half a beer, and $45 to get in (don't ask what we were thinking, b/c we weren't really). Actually, at the time we thought it was a great idea. A little honesty for you dedicated readers, most of our great ideas are alcohol induced decisions. So there we were, seriously jammin' to some hip hop and headed to the ATL for the remainder of our Friday night. Leslie (our party animal of a sister) just couldn't muscle the 30/45min ride down to the club; she was out cold by the time we finally parked. Without further hesitation, Leslie eagerly insisted that we leave her there to sleep while we went on in. With three hours left to party, Lauren and I had our night cut out for us! What a blast we had too! Lauren, I couldn't have asked for a better night!!

Yay! There we are! This was somewhere between our 6 Red Bulls, the fun girls we met, and T...who was a hottie! :) The picture is a little fuzzy...as was the night!

Friday night turned into Saturday morning real quick as we closed the club and headed back home around 5:00am. No, it doesn't normally take us two hours to get home, but apparently the directions on Lauren's iPhone can be (awkward clearing of the throat) pretty tricky to read. I still love you, Lauren!

I should probably add that there were several promises made prior to our Friday night out. Lauren and I promised (cross my heart and hope to die style) that we would get up and help Leslie paint her house first thing Saturday morning...regardless what time we crawled through the door that night. So we did just that! We were up and ready to paint by 9:00am. Sleep is really overrated, you know?

I can tell you from personal experience that proper ventilation is essential when you're painting. The word vegetable comes to mind. Seriously, I was a mess. 3.5 hours of sleep + 6 hours of paint fumes = some really bad singing coupled with some seriously bad dance moves...in the middle of the day...covered with white paint. An out-of-body experience to say the least, but we got it done!

Just a few of the many high points (pun intended) from our day of painting:

1. A biscuit and some Red Bull.
2. "I've been in the same spot for an hour now...have I painted this crack yet?"
3. Bel Biv DeVoe, Paula Abdul, and our new CD.
4. More Red Bull.
5. "It's club Apple...bring your computer, Matt!"
6. "No, we're in no condition to try and play volleyball with pros!"

I knew we must have been high when Lauren and I decided it would be a good idea to head back out to Atlanta again Saturday night. So, we got ready and made our way down to SHOUT for drinks and some awesome sushi! Mildly comatose from the day and night before, Lauren and I filled up on some much needed nutrition and headed upstairs for some mingling. How much fun did we have?! Good times. Then over to the club for some jookin'. Yes, that is one of my new words from the weekend! Some other interesting things:

• Texting under the influence never ends good.
• Patrón does improve the situation (and often times the company).
• You can pay 1/2 the parking fee if they only give you 1/2 a spot (half meaning that you have to physically crawl over to the passenger side to get out of the car).
• "I wish he would have just taken a pee on my leg, it would have been a lot quicker than that whole territorial thing he was just doing."
• If her hair looks fake, chances are it is..."but you can ask if you want."
• The curb won't give!
• "Lauren, exactly how close am I to that BMW?"

Yeah, so sometime amongst all of those educational experiences, we decided to head to a bar in Buckhead to meet up with some friends. So, north we went! After wrapping it up in Buckhead, Lauren and I were D-town bound. After a quick stop by the Waffle House in Dawsonville (aka D-Vegas), we finally pulled in the driveway about 5:15am. Once again, loving my bed by this point! Needless to say, Sunday was spent sleeping....

ALL DAY!

I think I might have made it out of bed twice for some much needed H2O, but other than that it was sleepy time for the E! Poor Lauren had to drive back to Knoxville, but she seemed pretty ok with it (ah, who am I kidding? I was passed out when she left). She did make it back safely though! Overall, I would have to say we had an amazing weekend! Time with family and friends...it doesn't get much better than that!