Don't Pretzel My Buttons

I would like to comply with this request, but really, OPI, you leave me no choice.

Are you aware that the only similarity between the word “pretzel” and the word “press” is the first three letters?  By that logic, I could writhe a sentinel like third Andorra evening shovel be apple my cleaver witness.  Ha ha, get it?  I mean, Gethsemane it?

I am also troubled by the question of whether I should inform you that under no circumstances should a pretzel ever be this color.  Frankly, if you have eaten so many godforsaken pseudo-pretzels that you consider this color to be in any way reminiscent of a pretzel, you are probably already beyond all medical help.  Although enough thiamine mononitrate in the brain pan would finally shed some long-awaited clarity on the “thought” “process” behind these names.

I Have a Herring Problem

(suggested independently by Charlie and Laura)

Oh, I'm sorry. Did you need me to speak up?

Give Me Moor!

Wow, really? Really? How did nobody's offensiveness radar go off when you named a nail polish after a race of people, colored it to approximate their skin tone, and then asked to possess them? Follow-up question: if you have a white nail polish, do you need to keep this one next to it at all times so that you don't wake up one day to find your white polish bottle lying mysteriously broken underneath a tiny little pillow? In this case, I think OPI named neither wisely nor too well.

Granted, it is conceivably possible that OPI was going with another definition of "moor" (although not likely, seeing as this comes from the "Espana" collection). If we are talking about land forms, though, a moor is about as unpleasant and useless as you can get. Does whoever named this really want a desolate, infertile, and somewhat soggy piece of English countryside? Nor does swapping from "Moor" to "moor" really improve the romantic connotations in either healthiness or happy endingness.

Let's just agree to cut our losses and stick with the verb, then, shall we? I'll moor you to whatever you want. Just promise to stay there.

Lemonade Stand By Your Man

Honey, let me give you a little advice. If you are having issues with your man, you might want to consider whether they spring from the fact that you appear to be the owner and operator of a lemonade stand, a time-honored profession practiced primarily by eight-year-olds. Statistically speaking, this means that your man is probably either a pre-teen or a pedophile. Either way, we're not really talking about a class of men noted for their deep emotional constancy, am I right? While I don't want to impugn your true and enduring love, I'm just saying that the next time your man reaches into his wallet to leave a quarter on your nightstand, you might want to take a peek at his driver's license and see if his name is Humbert Humbert.


Furthermore, while "Before and After" may be my favorite category on Wheel of Fortune, this does not make it an appropriate nail polish naming mechanism. (To any OPI namers who insist that before-and-after with Every Word Capitalized is a viable human method of communication, let me riposte by saying that Your Momma Is So Fat That The Probability She Occupies A Randomly-Selected Point Within A Room Is One Day I Am Going To Learn How To Send My Fist Through The Internet And Punch You In The Face.)

Actually, I greatly prefer this name when taken literally, i.e., Lemonade Stand in Close Geographical Proximity to Your Man. This take on it raises all sorts of interesting questions. I mean, there are not a lot of lemonade stands, so it's pretty unlikely that your man just happens to be near one. Did you seduce your man based solely on his convenient distance from the nearest lemonade-serving establishment? The fact that you named your nail polish after the lemonade stand rather than your fellow leads me to believe this may be your general order of priorities. It's OK to be honest, I love lemonade too. Also, what if your man doesn't remain stationary all day? If your lemonade stand stays put while he moves around, your nail polish would be unacceptably out of vogue. I think the only solution is a lemonade version of that Japanese vending-machine skirt. Manufacturers, call me. We can split the profits fifty-fifty.

Iris I Was Thinner

Well, this is charming on every level. By "every level" I mean the 1.4 levels of meaning I am willing to grudgingly grant OPI because they are probably feeling extremely proud of their clever non-pun and I don't want to make them cry, and by "charming" I mean "incredibly off-putting and really messed up."

Hey, guess what, OPI? Nails are the one part of everyone's body that they pretty much feel OK about. Nobody's nails are too fat!



The nail polish industry has a special place in the world of make-up because nail polish is the only product that cannot be used to make you look like the more attractive person you're not. Nobody (I hope) is using nail polish to even out their blotchy skin tone, to make their tiny eyes look bigger, to make their cheekbones more prominent. Nail polish is something a woman (or man) does to please her-(or him)-self--what color do I want my nails to be, just because I like that color?

So, you know, thanks for ignoring that whole ability you had to make nail polish the only "beauty" industry segment free from the need to make women feel bad about themselves in order to sell more products. You didn't have to make this about disguising flaws; it could have been about celebrating choices.

Instead, you're a nail polish bottle calling itself fat.

Miso Happy With This Color

It's nail polish names like these that really make me nostalgic for the good ol' days. You know, the ones where women were in the kitchen, African-Americans were at the back of the bus, and Asians were in internment camps.


(suggested by Avii)

This name is pretty subtle, so let me break it down for you. You see, "miso" sounds like "me so," which is what all Asian people say instead of the grammatically correct "I'm so." Man, sometimes people who grow up speaking a different language don't have a perfect grasp of English. Ha ha, I sure love to laugh at them for trying!

Google backs up my intuition that the primary association with "me so" anything is the immortal "Me so horny" scene from "Full Metal Jacket." Get it? One of Japan's primary cultural exports, which OPI is taking care to celebrate in its Japan collection, is prostitution! Of course, the character in "Full Metal Jacket" was Vietnamese, not Japanese, but that's cool. They all look the same to me, too.

Also, I love how in classic OPI style, randomly inserting the name of a soup (a soup that is not even remotely the same color as this nail polish, I feel obliged to pedantically point out) makes this a brilliant pun. Wow, that's vichyssoise hilarious, you New England clam chowder morons.

Friar, Friar, Pants on Fire!

Blasphemy! Accusing a man of God of deception? I had no idea that OPI was so iconoclastic. Maybe this is the color that Richard Dawkins wears on dates?


I admit that I kind of like the idea of an extremely bitter atheist in a room somewhere in OPI headquarters taking her revenge, one nail polish name at a time. And I look forward to the rest of OPI's anti-Christianity-themed line, which I hear will include Fertility Goddess Fuschia, Ubermensch Ultramarine, and Go Screw Yourself Billy Graham You Deranged Nutjob Blue.

However, I have to question the accuracy of this particular polish name. Do friars even wear pants? I mean, I'm sure they do now, but the traditional image is a cassock or something, isn't it? I admit that "Friar, Friar, Vestments on Fire!" doesn't quite have the same ring to it. However, it seems pretty clear that OPI already gets their nail polish names by ripping off playground rhymes and then substituting words with whatever nouns their darts happened to hit in a rhyming dictionary, so eloquence is pretty much out the window at this point. We might as well strive for whatever semblance of coherence we can still scrape together, OK guys?

I'm also not sure why this name is part of OPI's "English Collection" ("shades designed to capture the vibrancy of London, while simultaneously offering the softness of a heathered English countryside!"). What about friars (or flaming pants) is uniquely English? Let's just take a quick rundown of where the major mendicant orders were founded: Dominicans? France. Carmelites? Israel. Franciscans, Servites, and Augustinians? Probably all Italy. Even the word "friar" itself comes from the French "frère" (meaning brother). Basically, OPI has picked one of the few major medieval powers that did NOT originate any large sect of friars.

Here's what I'm guessing: OPI got all it knows about friars from the same place I did--Robin Hood. This would explain the alleged Englishness of the name. However, let me point out that 1) though Tuck wasn't the meekest of friars, I don't think he ever actually lied to anyone, making this name STILL nonsensical, 2) this totally clashes with Sherwood green, 3) this shade would be much better suited to Will Scarlet, and 4) I don't remember any part of the Robin Hood stories where Friar Tuck goes through Maid Marian's makeup bag.

Whatever way I slice it with my longsword, this name does NOT make me merry.

What's Dune?

What's Dune? What's DUNE?



By Liet-Kynes, OPI! You are going to find out in a hurry when a sandworm emerges to eat your melange trawler and you don't even have your riding hooks. Anyway, I better stop typing before the Butlerian Jihad finds me, but Shai-Hulud have mercy on your soul.

Don't Socra-Tease Me!

OPInterlocutor: Why have you left the Lyceum, Socrates? And what are you doing standing in front of the Sephora?

Socrates: Alcibiades got jealous when I was always hanging outside the gymnasium. But he doesn't seem to have a problem as long as I settle for teenage girls. What brings you here?

OPI: I am here to deliver a new nail polish shade.

Socrates: What is it called?

OPI: You will think me mad when I tell you.

Socrates: Is it a hideous color?

OPI: No...well, actually, yes. But that is not the reason. I have named it after you; it is called "Don't Socra-Tease Me!"



Socrates: ...Have you been sniffing hemlock?

OPI: Please, do you expect me to take advice on beauty products from someone whose idea of a well-put-together outfit includes gladiator sandals and a toga? Paris Hilton isn't hosting the Symposium tonight.

Socrates: When it comes to nail polish names, I know only that I know nothing. Will you enlighten me and tell me what makes a good nail polish name?

OPI: The best nail polish name, Socrates, is that which is beloved by the consumers.

Socrates: But is a nail polish name good because it is beloved by the consumers, OPI? Or is it beloved by the consumers because it is good?

OPI: You don't seem to understand how this industry works, Socrates. We have a few bowls of wine, toss an encyclopedia in the air, and throw a javelin at it. Whatever word it hits, we pay a slave boy to think of a word that sounds kind of like it and slap the name on the bottle. Give a few free samples to the disciples of Aphrodite, and bam! Suddenly they're lining up at the agora to tell you how witty your nail polish name is.

Socrates: Look, if you wanted to tell me you're a sophist, you could have just said so.

OPI: Anyway, I've got to run. I have a meeting scheduled with Sappho to work some product integration into her latest poem.

Socrates: I was wrong. I do know something. You guys suck.

Catherine the Grape

Huh.



I didn't realize that Violet Beauregarde came with her own monarch.

Vould U Like a Lick-tenstein?

Vy, hello there. Velcome to my castle. Vould u like a Lick-tenstein?


...no, I'm sorry. It's just not working for me. I'm trying to get into character, but what exactly is my character? I'm a Bela Lugosi-style vampire, I presume from the accent and the oral fixation. But the taxes were too high in Transylvania, so I moved to Lichtenstein? I mean, I'm not complaining or anything. Gorgeous stamps, the skiing in Malbun is lovely, I never have any trouble laundering money. But does it really have the right...atmosphere? It's very quaint, but as far as sinister gothicness goes, it could use some work. If I'm walking, I can make it from one end of the country to the other in a day, let alone if I'm flying on my raven wings of night. Where are my victims supposed to flee to? And speaking of victims, why am I asking permission? I'm not even asking if I can bite them, I'm asking permission to...lick? Am I a kinder, gentler, vampire? Am I a vegan? Am I a new-age vampire, sensitive and attuned to womens' needs, yet realizing that this makes me even more manly because I am not constrained by typical gender stereotypes? Or did I just have a run-in with the law and now I'm trying not to violate my vamp-parole? Also, what's with the "U"? Am I text-messaging my prospective lickee? If so, the question seems a little premature, as I would assume that if someone is in appropriate text-messaging range, she is not in the field of my questing tongue. And while I'm at it, what exactly is the pun supposed be here? Why am I offering her the country? I know you can rent it for a day, I guess I am demonstrating my immense wealth and largess? Yes?

OK, I think I have my character now, I'm ready.

Vill u plz sign this consent vaiver stating that I may gently graze ur neck with my fang while we sit in one of only two doubly-landlocked countries which by the way I own a significant part of because I am so rich...

Mutt's New

Dear Mrs. Atkinson,

Here is my essay on "A Day in the Life of Your Pet" like you assigned. I am really sorry it is late but when I was looking for Tinkerbell to do my research I found her floating upside down in the hot tub and my mom said she was just sun tanning but then I heard her talking to the vet and he said she had "lost the will to live" or something.

P.S. Is it OK if I don't go to Six Flags for Physics Day this Friday? Rollercoasters and physics both kind of make me nauseous and I think if I combine them I might end up ruining my new outfit in front of everybody.

A Day in the Life of TINKERBELL, the BEST Chihuahua EVER!

YAWN. Just another morning waking up in my big pink bed! I love it because it is shaped like a castle and it makes me feel like a real princess. Now it's time to take a walk! My owner is too busy to go walk and also she is scared of maybe breaking a heel but that's OK because I get to see Manuelo, my extra-special friend, who was hired just to take care of me! Hi Manuelo! You smell extra good today. Did you know smell is my strongest sense and I can smell way better than a human? For instance, I can tell you are in a sad mood because you smell like cheap whiskey! Did my owner threaten to report you to ICE again because she thought you stole my diamond tiara? I really miss it, diamonds are a girl's best friend!

Time to go see what my owner is doing! Wow, she looks really happy to see me. She's running right over! What's that she has in her hand?


(spotting credit to Gustav Berg)

It looks like the little bottle I saw Manuelo taking from owner's daddy's Happy Cabinet but it doesn't smell the same. It smells really strong though, I wonder what's inside? No, it's too strong, don't put it so close to me!

What are you doing? You're putting it on me? Stop telling me how beautiful I'm going to look, these are fierce talons! Let me go, Manuelo, don't let her do this to me!

You keep saying that my nails are going to look so pretty, but are you are aware that dogs are basically friggin' colorblind? It is THEORETICALLY IMPOSSIBLE for me to appreciate this.

Why are you doing this to me? I'm sorry I peed on your couch! I'm sorry! Just let me go.

Life is agony.

Meet Balls

I've tried about seventy different prescriptions of rose-colored glasses to look at this one. No matter how strong they are (and in this latest pair, Stalin looks like the pancake bunny), this name still grosses me out.


Meet Balls?

I mean, is the goal to look like you just dipped your fingers in squishy globules of ground up cow flesh?

Or...is it a tantalizing promise of your social life to come?

Either way, let me reiterate: eww.

Baby It's "Coal" Outside!

Really? This was the nail polish you were so excited about that you busted out the exclamation point?

(photo from Nail Polish Diva)

Here's an idea: if you only have enough currency at the Punctuation Store to pick out one present for yourself, how about investing in a comma? I know, it doesn't have the flash of an exclamation point, but the upside is that you will look a lot less like an idiot, with the pleasant side-effect of being grammatically correct.

Oh, and thanks for the quotation marks around "coal." I was in danger of believing that, in a bizarre and terrifying sequel to Cat's Cradle, the carbon in our atmosphere had literally transmuted into sedimentary rock and was in danger of crushing anyone who ventured outside. ("Yes," Steampunk Santa said, as he unleashed the particle of Coal-9, "you've all been very bad.") The thing is, I know what it would be like to have coal outside. I don't, however, know what it would be like to have to worry about "coal." What exactly are the scare quotes supposed to indicate? Something kind of like coal is outside? Watch out, it's sandstone! Oh, no, here comes whale blubber, another non-renewable source of energy!

I assure you, if you persist in saying things like this, you will soon have nobody left to call "baby."

Paint My Moji-toes Red

This is it, guys. Stupid Nail Polish Names is officially in the big leagues.

Allow me to introduce Suzanna, our first embedded journalist and Midwestern Nail Polish Correspondent. You may recognize her fine spotting and photography skills from Sand in My Suit.

If you would like to join the ranks of our crack investigative team, I would love any submissions. There is nothing I want more than to turn each and every one of you into that creepy person at Walgreens who spends an inordinate amount of time lurking around the nail polish displays.

This week, Suzanna let me know about this little gem, Paint My Moji-toes Red:



(photo taken from Nail Polish Diva)

Now, I like a good pun as much as anyone. More than most people who are traditionally considered "sane." But here is the thing about puns: this isn't one.

A pun requires two words that sound similar, yes. But arbitrarily switching a word with another word that sounds like it: NOT A PUN.

Since I think we can pretty much agree that the person who named this nail polish deserves to be condemned by a jury of his peers and put behind bars, let's turn to my new imaginary legal nail polish line for examples.

Here are some of our leading shades: Starry Decisis (glitter), I Was Never Red My Rights (crimson), and Blue My Chance at Parole By Assaulting a Prison Guard With a Homemade Shiv (navy).

Now, here are some that did not make the cut: Insanity De-fence (purple), Trus-tease of the Estate (cerulean), Res Jew-dicata (chartreuse).

Can we see the difference, class? Hint: the colors in the second set have NO EARTHLY CONNECTION with the homophones. If a pun is a play on words, the words in the second set are not playing. They are not even acquaintances. They are the two kids who stand at opposite corners of the playground, solemnly glaring at each other. One is on the monkeybars and one of them is the kid who goes down the slide over and over again, trying to line up his flight path to hit the kids on the monkeybars and knock them into the gravel.

Now, which category would Paint My Moji-toes Red be in?

Unless Jesus is at your party, has gotten a little tipsy, and has decided it would be super funny to stagger around turning everyone's beverages into wine, there is no reason for a mojito to be red. This seems like an unlikely scenario. But then again, how could anyone to afford enough alcohol to make this name seem like a good idea, sans the J-man showing up and pulling a little trick a la loaves and fishes?

So you get a pass this time, OPI. But don't take this as your excuse to become a Re-peat Offender (dirty brown).