Sitting here in the homeless shelter, it occurs to me that I could’ve done a few things differently. After I got my job at Lehmann Brothers, it probably wasn’t wise to email the HR directors of every other company in the industry and tell them to “SUCK IT, BUTTWIPES!!!” Putting fifty grand down on the St. Louis Rams to win the Super Bowl this year turned out to be a mistake, too. You’d think my bookie would tell me that Kurt Warner and Marshall Faulk weren’t with them anymore. You’d be wrong. But perhaps the biggest mistake I made after I lost my job was continuing to shell out for expensive manicures.

When times were fat, my manicures were kind of a treat for myself. After a long day in the financial trenches, I deserved to have my fingernails buffed with Siberian tiger fur while three geishas massaged my cuticles and sang selections from the Cole Porter songbook. That diamond-dust varnish seemed a little extravagant, but you should’ve seen how they made my nails sparkle. I wasn’t even deterred by the fact that I had to fly to Buenos Aires for these manicures. I mean, it was only three times a week.

Well, those days are over. Now my nails have the creased, greyish look of a sliver of soap that’s been left on the rim of the bathtub for years. If I’d only had the foresight to invest in this Stainless Steel 7 Piece Manicure Set, I might still have somewhere to live and a shred of human dignity. If I’d had these clippers, cuticle scissors, tweezers, and whatnot, I might not have to climb down into the sewer every time I need to find something to eat.

I did manage to sell enough blood to buy a set, so hope is not lost. If I close my eyes, clip my nails, and hum “Let’s Misbehave”, it’s just like being back in B.A. for my thrice-weekly ritual. Well, almost. Do you know where I can get ahold of some Siberian tiger fur?

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