I love creepy people. In fact, immediately after an interaction with a creepy person, I think how much I am going to enjoy writing about them later. Hey, creepy guy... You make my life richer and more enjoyable. And you give me perspective on how normal my friends actually are.
So, the guy that bagged my groceries today. Total creeper. He was pretty bold.
Dear Creepy Bagger at King Soopers,
You were attempting to make pretty intense eye contact with me today. But I, wisely, faked like I was watching my purchases ring up on the computer. You immediately sent a sense of gooey ickyness down my spine. You, for some reason, assumed that I was from Minnesota. And I am not. So when you asked me if I was from Minnesota, I said, "... no." I really just wanted you to stop talking to me. Then you asked me if I was making Italian food. Let's see... ricotta, shells, cheese, pasta sauce, sausage... uhhh.... you genius. Stop talking. I can picture you drooling. I'm not even looking at you.
Why is it only the icky guys have the guts to talk to the single girl using the little basket to shop? Hello! I am using a basket because I AM NOT HAVING DINNER WITH ANYONE. I don't need a ton of food. I should probably think twice about shopping at the grocery store centrally located in family-ville. Find me a good tomato or ask me where you can find the lemon juice. I will take you over there and you can ask me out on a date. It will be perfect.
Or you could do like all the hot single guys in the grocery store do... go pick up a six-pack of beer, a loaf of bread, and four pounds of roast beef.