Showing posts with label random heifers we hate absurd moment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random heifers we hate absurd moment. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

"You Don't Need To Know Who I Am"

Yesterday, I was looking for a multivitamin and my friend accompanied me to a snooty shop that I like because it's on Park Avenue and the word "chemist" is in the title, which opens the door for me to say, "By the by, when I was at the chemist on Park Avenue...."

The store also also has way too many options for our pretty little heads. Just as I was saying to my friend that maybe I should just get One A Day from some tedious, non-snooty pharmacy, a random shopper appears in my field of vision and starts chattering about which vitamins I should take. I am assuming that the expression on my face suggested that I was wondering why a stranger interrupted my private conversation for an intense, one-sided "Come-to-Jesus" meeting about vitamins. I am only assuming this because she stared me in my face as she announced: "You don't need to know who I am." Needless to say, I'm too well-bred to respond, "Um, that's good — because that is of no interest to me." I don't remember a thing that she was talking about because the term "for older women" was part of her sentence.

A few minutes later Random Crazy Lady was back AGAIN, buzzing around my head like one of those big, gimpy summer flies that slowly whirl around your head, but suddenly pick up speed when you're ready to swat. I cut off her earnest bleating to ask, "What did you mean before when you said 'for older women?' "She quit talking at me for a blissful second, then started rambling on again. After the part where she stammered, "when we ... uh ... get past our ... you know ... our 30s and our 40s (!?)... not that I'm saying you...." I would like to think that my trademark Withering Glare Of Death
(TM) is what finally got Random Crazy Lady to go away.

The entire ordeal was too taxing, so I sailed off with my nose — sans vitamins, which is why I probably am about to drop dead from scurvy. I did, however, go to a non-snooty drugstore to load up on scrubs and masks because I don't need any more implications that I am Miss Jane Pittman.