It was a date with ourselves. After a nice, leisurely lunch with no 4 year olds begging us to color, play tic-tac-toe, or entertain their every whim, my best friend and I went to get pedicures.
Believe me- it was long past due. No comments needed from you, Justin. Thankyouverymuch.
We settled into our massage chairs that beat the living crap our of backs and made things jiggle that aren't meant to jiggle in a pedi session. At least, I don't think they are supposed to jiggle- who knows.
It was relaxing. It was peaceful.
Until. Great. I knew this was going to happen.
The two people taking care of our tootsies started talking to each other. In another language.
We didn't even look at each other. But, we read each other's minds. And Christie did it.
"Are y'all talking about us and our nasty feet?" You go girl!! Called 'em out and in their own territory. NOW WHAT!?! Wait a minute- who's feet are you calling nasty? Mine? Yeah- you're right.
Quick denials came from both of them. They claimed they were talking about a movie. A Chinese movie- one that they are sure we've never heard of and can definitely not Google it.
But then, they started talking about movies that are out now and gave us their personal reviews. By the time they were done, I was kinda hoping that they would have just admitted that they were, indeed, talking about us.
Which, I'm sure they were. In some capacity.
Cause, I know that if my friends and I were able to speak a second language and we had to give pedicures all day long- we would take full advantage of it and talktalktalktalktalk. And no one would know what we were talking about. It's genius, I tell ya. Pure genius.
I'm so jealous of bilinguals.
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