In the late 90s, crackle nail polish made its way onto the shelves of drug stores everywhere. Naturally, I made my mother buy me a bottle. When I wore it to school the next day, I was teased for having a whack polish job.
Now, motherfucking OPI is selling that shit for like 9 bucks a bottle and I guarantee you that all of those basic-ass bitches that taunted me sport that shit with the false belief that they’re good at nails. No, you’re not. I am. I’m good at nails.