a trip to the bookstore

A few feet into the door a pleasant woman gave me a photocopied sheet of coupons. A few feet later another pleasant woman tried to give me another. Economy's bad, I hear.

As is always the case in bookstores, I get overwhelmed and develop a fear of commitment and leave empty handed. But the coupon promised 25 percent off, so I decided to risk it and buy an expensive art book to replace the ones lost a few years ago in you-know-what

Blocking the aisle was a pretty early twenty something girl wearing red vinyl heels...and a white snood. That's right, a snood.












In 2009.

With her, was her "bff": a six foot six, 250 lb gay boy with highlighted hair, combed à la Zac Efron, mincing through the decorating books aisle like a chihuahua on a leash.

Miss Snood loaded up on a few hundred dollars worth of books, while her huge chihuahua barked pronouncements throughout the store about what he "loooooooooooooooved" and "h8ed!"
Finally they vacated the aisle.

Hmmmm...what should I buy? The art section was small, now that they'd pillaged it, but I finally, after a long time debating, decided on this:

The "extraordinary insight into his world of glamour, sex and fame!" had nothing to do with it.

Leaving, I nearly caved into my sugar lust/heat/boredom. I got in line for a Extra Grande Mocha Frappuccino®.

Thankfully the abs of God intervened:

I got an iced coffee instead.
Small, black, no sugar.
I mean really.
Not good merchandising strategy to have abs like that glaring accusingly at you when you're selling carbs, is it?

As I exited, Andrea Bocelli began operatically with what sounded suspiciously like Wham's classic "Careless Whisper"...in Italian. I lingered to hear the end, but when he started up (what sounded like) "Sukiyaki", I had to go.