I’ve been on a “keep my nails looking nice” kick, which is better than the alternative of being my usual “let my nails look like crap, I don’t give a damn, that shit takes too much time.”
Usually I paint a new coat of whatever color I currently have on at night while Matt and I partake of several episodes of West Wing as we work through all 8 seasons, because it is simply one of THE BEST shows ever. If I paint a coat or two at the beginning, I know by the end of the 48 minutes my nails will be dry enough to do other things, like eat hotdogs out of the package, or pop Matts back zits. This is been all fine and good for the last week.
Except the other night when, after downing several mugs of hot tea in effort to sooth my burning streppy throat prior to painting my nails, I had to pee.
Uh, wanna hit pause so I can pee?
Sure, I have to go too.
We both head to the bathroom because while I will not poop infront of Matt, because I don’t do that -poop that is- despite all my um, stomach troubles before I learned I was lactose intolerant that landed me in there for hours grunting, moaning, and shivering on the floor in a cold sweat, I will pee in front of pretty much anyone.
I realized upon getting in there my nails were still really wet.
Um, heh, wanna pull down my pants for me?
uh, I guess?
so I pee, and it all comes out ok and everything.
Can you give me some toilet paper?
Here. *thrusting toilet paper at me*
Want to wipe for me?
Uh, are you serious? Like for real?
No, no, I can mangage, haha, just seeing how far you’ll go for me.
Wanna pull my pants back up for me?
That’s less enjoyable than taking them off, but sure.
So then he goes.
Want me to help you since you helped me? Like I can palm you balls and support them.
You never knew you life was going to be so sexy did you.
My nails were apparently still wet when I went to bed an hour later because when I woke up they were no longer smooth, but had a slight matte/woven sheet feel to them.
I didn’t tell Matt.