Paint Me Pink

If you hadn't gathered it thus far, I'm a girl. Just thought I'd throw that out there. Anyway, last easter I got some coupon to get a manicure. And boy was I excited (heavy sarcasm). After finding it beneath a pile of papers I realized that it expired that day. Drat. So I drug myself to the nail place so as not to insult my mother by not using the coupon. Who knew that there were man manicurists? Not me, that's for sure. And let me tell you they are, um, interesting. First off, he spoke to fast for me to understand a word he was saying, and it wasn't because his english was bad or anything, it was just that every time he spoke he was bookin' it. As I entered he said something along the lines of hihowmayihelpyou? Me: silent. Then, beg pardon? WhatcanIdoforyoutoday? Um, manicure? (I still wasn't sure what he said but I could kinda guess) Okyousitthere. (He pointed and I sat) Then he proceeded to file/buff(?) my nails and clip off the cuticle(?) (I don't really know my nail terms, obviously) Next I got some weird hand massage. Wierd. Whatcoloryouwant? Um . . .? Colorwhatcolor? (Again he points) Red? And that was that.