Manicures make women feel good. When our hands look nice, we feel nice. But the gal who opts for the crazy-glued, Wolverine-length nails decorated like the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, if RuPaul had painted it, has just taken a play out of the highmay handbook. Her very expensive, plastic works of finger art render her incapable of performing the most basic of tasks. She'll expect men to wash the dishes, open anything with a top and dial her phone. A back scratch will never happen. And, as if it needs to be said, a hand job is out of the question.