"What does your shirt say?" this random lady interrupts, out of no where, and asks me. Now, the shirt I threw on had (in VERY large letters):
1901 - 2001
Anyway, I tell her it's just a fraternity shirt and return to my shopping. "Oh. What do you do?" Caught a little off guard, I tell her Internet-related, mostly online marketing and reporting. "Oh, that's what I do!" (oh, what a coincidence!)
"Where do you work?" oh, we're still doing this? I answer her quickly, but politely. After all, Chatty Cathy's clearly just moved here from Arkansas.
"You look familiar. Have you lived in L.A. all your life?" why are you still talking to me? "No, I moved from San Diego" where we also don't walk up to total strangers in the supermarket and start random conversations without any reason. WHAT ARE YOU AFTER?!? ARGGHH
"Oh, I moved here from Chicago." uhm... I... DON'T... CARE. But, the "you look familiar" was a nice touch. This disarmed me just a tit so I didn't excuse myself yet.
"A friend and I just started our own internet business. A friend of our's in the valley helped us start it. She's great." Well, isn't that just dandy (and another coincidence)? WHY.. ARE... YOU... TALKING... TO... ME?
At this point she hasn't tried to sell me magazines or tell me how Jesus can save me, so I'm thinking she's either psychotic or maybe just socially retarded.
"Have you ever thought about working on your own on the side? We could use someone like you." right.. because my choice of bread is a clear indication of my competency?
She reminded me of those people on campus who would catch you when you were walking by yourself and try to recruit you into their
I just wanted to buy potatoes and bread.
After losing 5 minutes, I finally get home to see CHiP's Ponch and John battling a nuclear-powered robot gone out-of-control in the children's wing of a hospital.
Yes, I swear I was sober.