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The Bang Bang Theories

If Charlie Sheen Was Here….

Always on the hunt for The Best Home-Brewed Coffee (at a reasonable price), we tried this one, based on a random recommendation from a Sam’s Club shopper:

It’s fair-trade coffee. Roasted in small batches. Something like $11 (or maybe $8? I don’t remember, why am I making up numbers, but it wasn’t MORE than $11 because I wouldn’t have purchased it) for a giant-sized bag (2.5 lbs., maybe “giant” is hyperbole).

We threw it in the cart, along with a new Hazelnut-flavored brand, for “Sunday Coffee.” I like a little treat on The Lord’s Day.

The verdict? We LOVE it. It does not taste like pussy (referring to a past post on a brand of coffee we tried, a post I cannot link to because I don’t/rarely tag, and it’s not worth the effort to find it because the whole post said: “Kenny just announced our new coffee tastes like pussy.” Consider yourself hyperlinked back, without the hassle of clicking something). It’s robust, but not acidic, awakening, but not a thick jolt like Starbucks. So there ya have it. If you’re looking for a small-batch-roasted, hand-selected, fair-trade-ed, mild-but-yet-a-little-wild coffee, this is a winner.

In addition to trying new coffee, I’ve also jumped on the latest trend for nailbeds, which involves a whole new way to manicure: Nail Shellac by CND. It gives the hard finish of acrylic nails without the fakeness. It’s a 3-step process – base coat, color, top coat – with a “curing” under a UV light after each coat. Nails are dried instantly, you can walk out of the shop without the worry of a smudge. Claims state that color will last 2 to 5 weeks without a chip. Five weeks is just ridiculous, but I’d be happy with a 2-week, chip-free manicure.

So I tried it on a Sunday afternoon. The salon I went to (a new place close to home) had a terrible bedside manner (seemed disinterested/disengaged) and the 21-year-old bleached blond, while pleasant enough, fucked it up. Don’t know what she did, but I left the salon with my $40 manicure, went home and washed dishes (as touted, engage in regular activities with no harm/no foul) and my nail color peeled right up off my nails, in sheets.

I called them right up. They didn’t even sound surprised, just rescheduled me for the following Tuesday after work. Didn’t even apologize or make any concessions for my inconvenience, which ticked me off, and had me cross it off my mental list of places to frequent. Not to mention, a different girl did the correction, so I felt obligated to re-tip, since it wasn’t her fuck-up to begin with, so now I’m in the hole $44 for this little adventure.

But the polish lasted. Yes indeedie, it lasted just about 2 weeks – 12 days to be exact – before chippage began. They looked great, the polish was shiny, and I was tough on them. I cleaned and scrubbed and even used a new floor wax that got on my hands/fingers and burned and started to fuck up the nail polish, but a quick rinse off helped save ’em. I don’t know what the heck is in that floor polish, and question whether or not I should be using it, but it did make the floor shiny.

So the verdict: Worth it. Sort of. If you have $40 to blow every two weeks.

My friend The Hoff asked if we were going to “keep this up” (we tried it together). I did a quick cost analysis and determined that it would be close to a thousand dollars a year on my fingernails, which equals a vacation in my mind, and therefore think I can save it up for special times only. Now it’s off and my nails are weak, and chipped and torn down so much that my skin is actually longer than my nails. I tried to come up with a Charlie Sheen analogy, but failed. Murdoch, bring it.

Is it worth spending a cheap vacation (or, a lasered cat-asshole) on my fingertips? To have ’em look ‘polished’ and nice? Are raggedy nails that unacceptable? My instinct says yes, it is worth it, but on the other hand, maybe I can just polish them myself every Sunday night and keep ’em looking decent enough. Life is full of tough decisions. Egypt ain’t got nothing on the shit I have to consider Every Damn Day.

…..my coffee WOULD HAVE tasted like pussy.
(get it, Reader? You have to read the title, then follow the dot-dot-dots to the end. Keep up.)

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