Saturday, July 19, 2008

You really want me to think that much about you?

Hi Readers,
Now, I rarely go into stores. Really, my interaction with retail personal is minimal. I go into name brand stores, like, NEVER. I go grocery shopping every Sunday 'cause I have to, but intensively and stalkingly, I go to the 'older' looking Mom like cashiers every time because they have never failed to bother me less than the teeny bopper 'can I offer you an additional 10% off your T**get purchase' scpell that I know they are being forced to say by their head phone wearing managers. When I go clothes shopping, it's almost always on-line, because I'm so famous, I don't want to be plagued by fans. Everything else is fair game.
Note today's trip to the liquor store. I went to the local store to get my customary bottle and proceed to the checkout. The lady in front of me LITERALLY has every content of her purse littered out on the counter top, why I'm not sure, but she does. So the cashier lady rings her up, and by this time I know her drivers licence number, her address, what lipstick shade she wears, her stinky choice in purfume and the fact that she is the only person left on the face of this planet that writes a check. She sees me and moves her PILE over to make room for my wine. The cashier (who knows me and rolls her eyes) tries to ring me up but cannot because Sharie Mc Sharey-ton is busy putting her life back together in front of us. Ten minutes later, I'm out the door and new with the knowledge of some weird-o's info.
Hrmpf! Get a grip ladies! Not everyone wants to see your insides!
On an unrelated note, this is the song I'm listening to right now.

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