Deep thoughts while tending to your cuticles.

Perla went to get a pedicure a couple of weekends ago, and being the dutiful daughter who wants to get one, too (and wants to get it paid for by said mother), I went along.

Going on Saturday morning excursions with my mom is always fun, because you have a set list of things to do, and she always gets distracted by signs that have the words "garage," "yard," "bazaar," "craft," or "fair" in them. Luckily, this particular morning, we left the house early enough to catch a couple of garage sales (it's so funny how judgmental she sounds when she quietly declares "They have nothing!" when we're getting back into the car) before heading into my mom's usual pedicure spot.

This place was run by a trio of siblings. The two sisters do the manicures and pedicures, and the brother does the custodial and maintenance work.

The sister who ended up doing my pedicure breezed in late with two frappucinos in her hands. She asked me if what she was doing hurt, and I told her it didn't. Then she said "beauty is pain" and kept filing. Made me kind of wary to let her around me with sharp objects, but luckily, the pain and horrible cliches were kept at that.

The one thing that really struck me as odd was the brother. There were three customers in the whole place, since it was relatively early on a Saturday. A lady was there who brought her little daughter along, and the daughter was being very good, playing quietly and talking with her mom. The brother/co-owner went over to the television and turned it to Kids' WB, presumably for this little girl. However, he proceeded to drop his mop and plopped himself into a chair, pushing himself forward so he was about six inches from the screen, and watched Pokemon.

I noticed little else until I heard him shout to the tele, "Use the combination attack, you stupid idiot!" quite emphatically. A few minutes later, I turned to see him shaking his head in disbelief. "He evolved. I can't be he evolved! He evolved!" I thought the kid was going to have a coronary.

Even the little girl turned around to look at him in disbelief.

Thankfully, his sister, who in my head I had already christened "Frenchie the Philosophe," managed to survive his outburst without slicing off one of my toes.

As Perla paid up front, I looked around at the individual manicurist stations. Apparently, Captain Custodial did pick up some of the slack, as he had his own permit at a station. Imagine my surprise when I leaned in to recognize the smiling face in the photo as "Pepe Tran."

Somehow, everything made sense at that point.