In which I have a novel-worthy experience

You really have an advantage if you're one of those who really doesn't say much.

I had an old duffer come through my line who was either drunk, high, or schizophrenic. Or maybe a combination of all three. The latter is probably what was going on. He had a cart full of dollar items, except for 4 items -- pink pants, a white and pink t-shirt, pink panties and a pink bra. He told me that these items were for his wife. (The first thought that went through my head when he told me about his wife was "poor thing . . . ") The first thing he said when he got to my line was "CASH!" and he brought his cart backwards through the line and told me to unload it. Then he changed his mind and said, "You do it -- I'll put the stuff up there." He told me that he only comes to town 2 or 3 times a year, so when he does come, he has to get everything. He got a ton of cleaning supplies and like 7 bottles of dish detergent. One of the detergents was open and it spilled all over everything. It was loads of fun . . . He said that he got all of his items in less than 15 minutes. He mentioned that his wife would have spent hours getting all that stuff. The detergent had spilled on his food so I tried to go get another one, but he said, "No! Hurry! I have to go to work!" His total was $105.35 and he took forever to get his two fifties and a five out and then I asked him if I could have another $1 and he said, "yeah, yeah" and handed me another one. All the while I was ringing his stuff up, he was talking to the girls in line at 'Manda's till and asking them if we had a certain type of hat. When she didn't know, he asked 'Manda, and 'Manda didn't know either, but she told him that if we did, they'd be with the other accessories. He ran off and got one and then when he came back, he asked 'Manda and her customer if it looked good on him. Then we were all done, and he was kind enough to leave me a tip -- 25 cents.

He didn't talk much to me because I was really quiet. Yay. And then Shaun, one of our GM dudes was cleaning up the mess and I pretty much decided that the guy belongs in a mental institution. (The dude -- not Shaun.) And when I was done, Shaun asked me what I was doing tonight and I was confused because he's never talked to me before -- and he told me that I'm not much fun because I didn't want to work for him.

I hate it when I fight with my mother. It makes me sad. And I always feel like even though I win, I must be really wrong. I don't know why -- like, there's absolutely no way to argue something else when I've made my point, but for some reason, I always feel like my point was wrong, even though I won.

I saw a spiffy tattoo today. I went to talk to someone at church and while I was there, her son came and asked her to help him with his new tattoo. He had gotten it yesterday and he said that it still hurt a lot. It was on his back and it was really cool. It made me want to giggle though, because he's only 16 and so his mom or dad would have had to sign for him. And then he had his mommy clean it for him, which was totally cute. :-) Yay! I love her -- she's not a normal mom, she's a cool mom. Kinda like the mom in Mean Girls, only she DOES have some rules, I'm sure.
~MK