One of the flighty tarts from a different part of the dealership has taken a certain liking to one of my managers. She comes and visits often. She speaks in a nasal twang. She has large slightly permed blonde hair with an abundance of roots. She has overly tanned skin. She rims her dark eyeliner fiercely around her eyes. In short--she's Barbie Gone To Seed.

The only thing I cannot get over is her fingernails. Well, they aren't really hers persay. They were the property of the nearest Chinese nail salon until 4:00 p.m. this past Thursday. At that time, she waltzed in, plunked her much admired hiney down and paid a pretty sum to have perfectly shaped acrylic ovals attached to the tips of her fingers and painted a garish shade of coral/red/pink that doesn't really match anything.

They're so awful. They fascinate me! All I can think is how her hand looks precisely like that of the token slut who was incinerated in the climax of a poorly made action movie. And all that was left to identify her was the tanned and seared hand. With the charred little ovals--still intact.