The totality of my Target purchases from last night, which I’m sure were not lost on the adorable single guy in front of me in line:
No fewer than four Weight Watchers meals, of completely limited variety, which of course reveal my affinity for romantic fireside dinners.
A bright blue vat of cat food. Which of course reveals my affinity for impromptu fireside coitus. Stopped mid-motion to remove stray cat hair from his mouth.
Cheap face cream + an alphabetic combination lock = I’m old enough to 1) worry about becoming a leather bag and 2) forget simple number codes. Crying shame that “early onset dementia” is more than four letters.
A three-pack of ankle socks, which I will wear while watching the director’s cut of the Joy Luck Club. Right after I’m done with Hope Floats.
Men’s deodorant, because occasionally a woman does need something strong enough for an indentured servant.
Also note the coupon in the far right, good for $1 off a Kraft cheese product of my choosing. Because hot is a stray squirt of pressurized cheese landing on your three-legged cat.
Come get me, boys.
Labels: Stuff that's wrong with me