Honk if you like OPI

(Displaying "Meep-Meep-Meep" by OPI from the Muppet's Collection)

I've mentioned earlier that I have a problem. I have a tendency of becoming obsessed with certain things, whether it's a hobby, a movie, a product... in this particular scenario I have rather recently taken up the art of nail polish collecting. (Yes, I said "art"). Over a not-so-long period of time I have managed to collect a little over fifty nail polishes. These are $10 a piece so you do the math. I find it amusing that I have developed a passion - if you will - for nail lacquer. Mainly because as a little girl I wasn't interested in barbies, or polly-pockets (do you remember those?!), or make up, or nail polish... I played with trucks, air ports, video games and cars and for imaginary games in the school yard it mostly consisted of playing "war" with the boys and "shooting" each other. Throughout high school I also had no interest, I used to say that it was a waste of time and I didn't feel there was any value in having coloured nails. Usually they were kept short and uneven due to a lack of caring. So it is funny that now I have spent an insane amount of money on a product I swore to never love. I blame one of my best friends Gillian for this recent obsession. Using descriptive words she would sound like my total opposite, even scoring the exact opposite of myself on the Myers-Briggs personality test, but we get along famously and have a lot in common despite our differences. But she is really responsible for this new found relationship. I still refuse to admit it's a girlie side of me coming out from all the suppression it has endured as a child and I label it as my artistic face poking through. I use that excuse for anything feminine that I have a fancy for.

I think a part of my dislike for nail polish stems from my unfortunate genes when it comes to hands. As you can see above, and I tried various angles to get a half-attractive picture, I have been... blessed, with small, stubby fingers and difficult nails. This comes from the Uptons side of my family. Fortunate for my mother she has the long fingers, dainty nails, and delicate hands her mother has passed down to her. Of course my gene pool is the mixture of both bad parts of each family to create me. Life is cruel.

But the picture above is actually showing a paint job I did on Saturday. It is now Thursday and just beginning to chip away. I'm thoroughly impressed. I can't decide if it's the new colour or the Essie top coat I used with it. Either way, it's lasted and although it looks a little shotty now it has still managed to last almost a week with me which is impressive for anything. Despite almost sliding to my death this morning before 7am on my way to work, the lacquer has suffered through it and come out with only a few bruises. Stubborn bitch, eh? I admire her stubbornness.

So the moral of the story is don't fall on your way to work because you may ruin your nails. Or you may not, in this case. Actually, the moral of the story is if you have ugly hands, cover it with pretty colours and no one will notice.