I had an interesting experience yesterday. I needed cash for my ritualistic Saturday evening chinese so I popped to Tesco to use their ATM. Usually I would have gone to the local Supervalu but their local ATM has been teprimental of late and it’s a depressing place to go to for nothing. So I’ve found it preferable to pop to Tesco instead who also stock the only drinkable soyamilk and edible Brie that I’ve found in a ten mile radius. While there I thought I’d pick up some ingredients for another ratatouille along with the aformentioned Brie and Soyamilk, and a bottle of wine for my chinese and fillum (which ended up being a retro relook at the first Ewoks movie followed by some episodes of Futurama and an early night.)
I decided while I was there to buy my gran some flowers, then I proceed to the checkout which was thankfully free of the low-brow Kappa, Burbury & goldie looking chain hoods that swamped the store last week with their traditional bad attitudes towards the world based on some kind of peer related insecurity…I dunno… anyway, I put all my items through the till; ratatouille ingredients (aubergines, tomatoes, courgettes, garlic, onions, olive oil etc etc), some bread, brie, soyamilk, wine, flowers and paid for them with cash (as is the ways of the twenty-something male). Just as I’d bagged and was walking off I heard the middle aged woman who had been behind me in the queue say to the cashier “Some lucky girl is in for a lovely evening.”
God, I’m such a sweet guy. Why the hell am I single?
It’s the hair isn’t it? Is it, isn’t it? It’s the hair?