In a nightclub aged 16. Fellow I fancied like anything was there, wearing a purple mohair sweater (all the rage then). I walked up to him with a big smile and said "hi" while putting my left hand on his shoulder. We chatted for a while and I left. As I glanced back, there on his shoulder, lit up like a neon sign under the ultra violet light, were four of my false fingernails sticking heavenwards. 
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No, not an urban myth. It makes me think twice about having myself examined, even though nothing remotely like that has ever happened to me.


