“You finally get the information going, and you print the stuff nice and clean, its in an envelope. But then you get their information, and it looks like they had a fucking seizure while they were writing it. Dude, you got a 28 digit phone number going on here buddy. And under name, you drew a picture of a monkey fucking a coconut. Is your name monkey fucking a coconut sir? MFC, is that you? That’s a monkey, that could be a melon, looks like a coconut.”
- Dane Cook

So.

It was my fault.  I stiffed him a tip.

When I used to go to the nail salon, back in the day, I was very consciencious of always having cash on hand for a tip.  But I’m a little out of practice.  I haven’t gotten my nails done in.. oh, years.

I had no cash.  None.

This is the place my mother wants us all to have manis before the bridal luncheon, so I thought I should try it out.  I called, they made my appointment, and promised it would only take 20 minutes.  I checked my calendar.  I had 30 minutes I could spare.  I thought, hey.  Why not?  Spoil myself a little.

(Not that I need spoiling.  And this is when karma probably started to kick my ass.)

Anyway, just got a very simple manicure.  Nothing fancy.

Had no cash to tip.

Mentioned casually to the owner that I would be bringing in a large bridal party on the 14th.

Left to hurry back to work.. started running the MILLIONS of things through my head that I had to get done this week.. and BOOM.  Yep.

I had backed into another car.

The owner’s car.

Fuck.

Karma.  It’s a bitch.