Heather Christena Schmidt

That’s right, faithful blog followers, the Korean Hooker Hostage bizarro nail salon experiences have returned. For a month or so, I’ve been thinking that things may have turned back to normal and the weird, fucked up goings-on had officially come to an end. I was wrong. More wrong than I’ve ever been. Clearly, normal for this nail salon is a bunch of crazy and seemingly unexplainable shit at once.

Tawdry One Now Has Bangs … and a bald spot

The Tawdry One did my nails today – the first time since that one day she deep throated an entire banana after clearly blowing the owner’s husband in the back room. I was of course speculating, but the bananarama really did happen. To this day, I still cannot figure out how she got that entire banana down her throat in one swoop.

So she came over and said “hello” and I noticed she has new bangs. I don’t think she had bangs before, now she does and – quite frankly – they’re hot. They’re sort of chopped or spiky, very cute. Okay, but don’t get too thinking that I’m nice and all because then the bitch leaned over to start doing my nails and I noticed she had a horrifyingly large bald spot. This woman cannot be older than her mid thirties and that lady is balder on the top of her head than my father who just turned 69 today.

I quickly forgot this, though, because a homeless crackhead came in trying to peddle her chicken on me.

A New Korean Hooker Hostage Character: the Chicken-peddling Crackhead

So this woman walked back into the salon after I had sat down and the bald, blow-job bitch had begun stabbing at my nails and cuticles with her utensils of pain. I say “back” because something like her fourth phone call in which she screamed like a crazy person at her boyfriend to come pick her up, she mentioned that her pedicure had been dry for well over an hour and her “chicken and clam chowder was going bad.” He still had not picked her up when I left.

You may be asking yourselves how such a catch could be stood up at the nail salon by her boyfriend. Well, in the hour or so that I was there, through her many conversations, her six trips to the bathroom, and her utter refusal to stop asking me if I wanted some of her chicken, I learned quite a few of her qualities that may not be considered by all to be endearing.

* She is actually homeless. I don’t get how a homeless person with no money can afford to carry a Coach bag and get pedicures at the local nail salon, but who am I to say where people should spend the little money they have. So she’s homeless and sleeps on a bed at the Y when not shacking up with her boyfriend, who happens to have a nice home in the hills (i.e. he has a lot of money… . . . . . ).

* Her food stamps were recently revoked because she got caught purchasing alcohol with them. While there, she took a call with her food stamp agent, though, and found out that her stamps were reinstated. Immediately afterwards, she walked across the way to the local grocery store to purchase some chicken, clam chowder, and carrots.

* She smokes crack. At first, I just sort of figured this was the case because of the multiple trips to the bathroom, the general crackhead-type behavior, the screaming on the phone, among other things – but then she actually said to someone on the phone that she was waiting for her boyfriend to come pick her up so they could go get their rock.

When you really look at the woman, you feel sort of bad for her. In the end, it’s a terribly sad situation. But at the same time, I just have to say WHAT THE FUCK?! As sad as it may seem, this lady is definitely making some choices that are not in her best interest. I would argue that using crack-cocaine is probably one of them.

So then the woman started roaming around the nail salon trying to force everyone to eat some of the chicken that she purchased at the grocery store across the street. After a while, I started keeping track of how many times she tried to pressure me to take a big chomp of her $6.99 roasted chicken. By the time I left, she had harassed me (and I say harassed because she was really giving me a hard time) – NINE TIMES. Sadly, the ninth time I said I was not hungry, everyone could hear my stomach growl at the most inopportune moment, and I was proven a complete liar.

So, yeah. I suppose crazy is the norm for this place. I didn’t even have the time to go see if that hostage was back in the closet again. I’ll be back in two weeks, though. Who knows just what the hell will go down then?