I get a manicure at least twice a month. Mrs. Field turned me on to manicures right after we got married and I have been getting them ever since. ( Hey it costs me $10 plus tips and I could blow that money on far lessor things) I find that it's a necessary part of my profession because I am always signing my name and my hands are always in plain view.
So anyway, today I am in my little manicure shop and my Vietnamese manicurist is doing her thing (Another hard working immigrant). "Mr field how you do?" I am enjoying the fruits of her labor when in walks this brotha that looks like he plays offensive tackle for the Eagles or some shit. He sits down and I figure he is waiting on his girl or wife to get done. The place is pretty full and from the looks of the people in the shop, his significant other could be any one of the people getting their nails and their feet done in the joint.
I look over at the brotha and he is looking back at me. Dude actually looks like he is staring, so I stare right back. Dude is actually smirking a little, and I sense that the mother fucker is making fun of me. So it's at this point that I give him the fuzzy eye ball; but then, of course, he gives it right back. Now I am starting to wonder if this shit is worth fighting this big mother fucker over. And worse, the dude might be packing a cannon under his jacket. This is, after all, Philly. I can see the headlines now: "MAN SHOT TO DEATH OVER MANICURE".
Now I am not sure where you all live, but here in Philly it's not that unusual for us men to get manicures. Although I must admit that when I started getting em about eight years ago it wasn't as popular. But now the shit really is no big deal at all. Yet this dude keeps looking at me like this shit is funny. "Mother fucker don't let the fact that I am getting a manicure fool you, I will mix it up with your big ass and bruise up these knuckles.
"Are you ready sir'? Dude gets up and heads to a manicure station that just opened up. Dude looks at me as he passes, and I feel like a fucking idiot. Then the guy sits down, takes one last look at me, and slowly shakes his head. I get up, pay the house, tip my girl, and roll. I can't even look back because I am too embarrassed.
I swear sometimes I am way too sensitive.