Wednesday, June 25, 2008

So at 11pm I thought the supermarket would be a good idea...

And it never is. But I wanted cigarettes. And also a box o wine. Because I drank the rest of Nicole's and felt kinda bad about it.

So I go to Dominick's. And I grab my wine. And I go for some more pistachios (I ran out!), but then decide that would be too heavy, and thus settle on yogurt raisins. Then I go to get salsa, and there's only one kind of hot salsa... which is disappointing, but I get it anyway. I don't understand the point behind mild salsa. Why even bother? Ok, but then I remember that I'm out of crossword puzzles, and I go to the magazine section. And, as usual, they only have "super easy!" crossword puzzles. Which I also do not understand the point of. It goes right over my head. Since when do stupid people enjoy crossword puzzles? Anyhow, I settle (once again) for one of those random puzzle books, which will at least have a few reasonable crossword puzzles, and head over to the register....

And there she is. My sworn enemy, Roshashanna (or whatever). Roshashanna (or whatever) and I been at odds ever since the time I was there at closing, and offered to allow some guy to go ahead of me so I could sneak back to quickly grab some ice cream sandwiches, and she screamed at me to come back to the line. So I stood there and waited for far longer than it would have taken me to grab my damned ice cream sandwiches anyway. And then when I got to the front, she gave me dirty looks and smarmily (I know that's not a word) told me to have a "blessed day." So, anyway, Roshashanna and I are not friends. So, she's ringing my stuff up, and I tell her that I would also like a pack of Camels. That part of the store, she tells me, is closed. Which is just bizarre if you ask me- I mean, people need cigarettes always, not just before 11pm. We exchange dirty looks, I pay her and walk out with my box o wine, my salsa, my yogurt raisins and my book of puzzles.

So I go to Cleo's to see if they still sell cigarettes. Which they don't, but before I get the chance to ask, my dear friend the saucy English bartender hands me a cider. Which, to be polite, I down as fast as possible. I then take a cab to and from the corner store to purchase some goddamn cigarettes.

And then I came home, and wrote this. For what reason, I do not know.

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