Hey, Nice Shirt!
I was at the grocery store yesterday... doing the normal Sunday grocery buying thing (along with the entire population of several states, apparently). I need to get a prescription filled. I've spent quite a bit of time getting my prescriptions filled at this place over the past year. There are only a handful of people that work in the pharmacy so I knew them all. I didn't really, but in the boredom of waiting in line, I named them all. There was Teddy, Oompah-Loompah, Big Mama, Grand Mama, Ho Chi Minh, and Barbie.
Barbie was a cute blond person in a blue lab coat who usually spent her days in the back mixing pills. I guess she's a pharmacist... or a helper... I don't know the blue coat vs. white coat hierarchy. Anyway, yesterday she was working the register because they were pretty busy. I walked up with my ticket number and credit card in hand.
"Nice shirt", she said... referring to my snazzy retro Pink Floyd shirt I had on. It was a beaten up, over-washed grey with a big pink pig in the center. "Where did you get it?"
I was wondering why Barbie was making small talk with me. She clearly lusted for me.
"I got it at Target" I said smoothly. (Target is where all the smooth shoppers shop.)
"Cool... my dad really loves Pink Floyd."
Somewhere in the distance I heard a weepy trumpet cueing an audience that it was time to laugh.
"Thanks."
I took my pills and headed home.
Tomorrow I'm going to go buy a hippity-hop shirt.