Babs in Blogland

Yesterday heaven arrived at my doorstep!

No, not a chocolately man with plane tickets to a tropical isle and a preference for buxom brown beauties.

This is heaven.  My favorite nail color.

I don’t like to wear color on my hands and I like something a little more than clear polish.  A few months ago I found this color, heaven, whilst getting a manicure.  I searched all over the city and couldn’t find it.  Finally, I went to the internet and, although I had to pay nearly double the cost to get it sent to me, I was able to order my favorite nail color.

I’m so excited!  Hey, it doesn’t take much to make me happy.

What’s your favorite nail color?

Last week I rented season one of Moonlighting on DVD.  Remember that show?  With Bruce Willis and Cybill Shepherd.   I used to love that show.  But watching it as an adult is quite different.  I was acutely aware of the sexual tension and overuse of satin.

Anyway, over the weekend I was finishing up the last disc when it hit me… (more…)

I am sitting here at the Dominican hair salon.  It’s been a few years since I’ve been here.  Quite frankly, I can do just as good a job with my flat iron that they can do with a hot azz dryer, and I save myself $40.  But I am trying something new today, so I came in to see my peoples.

After discovering that none of the salons in my area open until 10am, I had to quickly re-stage my day.  I was working on a very tight schedule and did not like the fact that I had to deviate from it.  I had my manicure and pedicure, but not at my favorite place.  Instead I had to go to the place near my house.  They are okay, but not as fancy as my fave place.  And Babs likes fancy.

For my hair, I decided to try this place out near my house.  It’s hidden in the back of an office building with only a small sign indicating its existence.  I’m glad I chose this place because there were no other clients when I got here.  There were also no other english-speaking people here so I had to rely on my often-times rusty spanish speaking skills to explain what I wanted.

So I am sitting under the dryer.  I hate this part.  Waiting.  Ugh.  It takes forever.  I’m clearly not going to make it to Roxie’s grooming appointment on time. 

Wait- why is the non-English speaking Ivette singing along to Journey on the radio?

Wait- another client just came in.  I had to translate for Ivette what she wanted.

Ay Dios!

This morning I was driving to work and feeling kinda blue so I decided that a stop at the hottie guy doughnut shop would be a proper pick-me-up.  Not only would I have a tasty treat, but I’d get to see my favorite eye candy in chef gear.  I hadn’t been since well before Lent began and had been craving it.  I’m happy to say that was just what the doctor ordered.  Not only was my doughnut delicious, but my eye candy totally remembered me and asked where I had been for the last couple of months. 

Oh wait, that’s not what this post is about.

So this chick was standing in line in front of me and I had time to take in her casual Friday look.  Trendy jeans that were two sizes too small, slide sandals that were 10 years out of style, and perfectly painted toes with little flowers on her big toes.

Ladies, I pray to the good Lord above that you are not having decals added to your manicure and pedicure.  Seriously, there is nothing cute about that.  Unless you are in the fourth grade, painted flowers on your toes looks silly.

I remember a few years ago I went to get a manicure before I headed out for my birthday festivities.  I mentioned to the nail tech that it was my birthday and she got excited and said, “oh! I do something special for you!”  Minutes later, after whipping out special brushes and neon paints, I had a little flower on my thumb.  I hated it.  This was my regular nail place (still is) and they are clean and friendly and efficient.  I didn’t want to offend her by asking her to remove the flower.  So I said thank you and left.  I went to dinner that night with a flower on my thumb, but it was surely removed the next day.

Now I know, some of you faithful readers might enjoy the occasional flower on your big toe, but I ask you to reconsider.  I believe that understated is always the best route to beauty.  Solid colors are best.  Hell, I don’t even like french tips on fingers or toes, and it seems like every other woman is wearing it.  But flowers, that’s just too much.

Do you like flower decals on your fingers and toes?  Please say no.

Did I ever tell you about the time I wore a wig?  No?  What a great story for a Wednesday morning!

I was not quite 21 years of age and had gone home for Christmas.  I don’t recall where I got it, but for some reason I thought it would be cute to wear a wig.  A short, bob or page-boy type wig in jet black.  Mind you, my hair was light brown at the time to the contrast was drastic.  I remember walking into my grandma’s house and my uncle busted out laughing.  He called me Regine (from Living Single) that year and a couple of years to follow.

That evening my girlfriend and I went to some house party in another city.  It was a very nice house party as the owner was the brother of a very famous baseball player.  We partied the night away and had way too much to drink.  When it was time to drive home we couldn’t, and so we crashed out the house.  I found an empty bedroom and was out.

Sometime in the middle of the night I woke up to go to the bathroom and that darn wig was getting on my nerves.  It was tight and itching and I needed my head to breathe.  I took it off, left it on the bathroom counter and went back to sleep.

It was the sound of a man’s laughter that woke me up.  One of the guys had gone into the bathroom the next morning and spotted my hair sitting next to the hand soap.  He howled!  I was mortified and stayed in my bedroom.  I knew what he was laughing about.

Once my girl and I got up and were saying our goodbyes, I eyed the guy sitting in a corner giggling.  I had put my wig back on and every time he looked at me he giggled.  Still embarrassed, but knowing I would never see those people again, I acted like nothing was wrong.

Once we got in the car I took my wig off and vowed never to wear fake hair again.  But we all know how that turned out.

Remember this post?

Well, as it turns out, my beloved waxonista, Carol, was not off gallivanting in Sao Paolo after all.  She just got a new gig making more money.  Babs does not like being taken for the flim flam! 

As fast and efficient as Marie was, she still wasn’t as good as Carol.  Aside from talking too damn much she lacked techinical skill.  Let’s see, how can I put this without sounding de clase…that ho left too much wax residue in my nether regions!  I never had that problem with Carol.  When I left her table I was clean as a whistle.  I could go directly to the nudie beach or the pole without anybody wondering what those little green bits were.  As if!

Yesterday, Carol and I were reunited.  She is working at a location closer to my home and she is five dollars cheaper.  Holla!

Ladies, if you are need of Carol’s services send me an email and I’ll get you her number.

Ladies, ladies, ladies.  Today we are going to have a little chat about our hands.  I want everyone to look down at your hands on the keyboard and mouse.  Are you rockin stubbies?  I was perusing the local paper’s website as I often do when I came across a spread of people posting their wedding rings.  Nothing really exciting until I came across this chick:

All I need is bbq sauce and a toothpick

I actually guffawed when I saw this picture.  Why oh why did she send in this pic to be displayed for the world to see?  I’m not a wearer of fake nails.  I wore them for about 7 years when I lived in Collegetown and rid myself of them a decade ago.  Now that I live in the land of $8 maniures I can’t imagine ever putting myself through that again.  Unless, of course, my fingers looked like little vienna sausages.

If your eyes are the window to your soul, your hands are the gate.  Please do not walk around looking like the picture above.  You CAN get help!

Do you wear acrylics or are you rockin it natural?