My day has been full of annoyances1 so I decided that I should go and buy something on my lunch break because buying things is the answer to everything.
UP: I received a $25 AmEx gift card from work for Staff Appreciation or whatever they’re calling it these days, so I walked down past the disgusting gyro place that smells like cooked piss and slipped into The Exchange to see if they had any new records I desperately needed.
DOWN: Some creepy pierced and tattooed older man with a broken arm was rifling through crates of $1 CDs, located right next to where I was flipping through records. He was one of those guys that needed everyone around him to know what the fuck he was doing and was going to be doing next, and then started frantically hollering to the front of the store for someone to come and help him. An Exchange employee came over and it turned out the man needed help lifting some of the milk crates out of the way so he could access the ones below. He made sure to explain that he only needed help on account of his broken arm and then repeatedly asked the clerk if his store credit from a different Exchange would be accepted at this one. Then he was pissed because they didn’t have a cheap enough copy of Lady Antebellum.
UP: I found some things I wanted: a pink pressing of the last Pierce the Veil album, and a $5 Phil Collins record. The 70-year-old and 16-year-old sides of me rejoiced.
DOWN: After the blue-haired girl at the register rang me up and I handed her my gift card, she said, “Oh…we don’t accept American Express.” So I had to pay with my own dumb money.
UP: She complimented my cat necklace and cat wallet.
DOWN: Creepy Guy was also getting rung up and took this as his cue to butt in. He hates cats. “My ex-wife’s cat….” and then on and on about a cat doing normal cat things. In order to better illustrate to us what the cat would do when it jumped out from under tables, he SWIPED AT MY LEG. STRANGER DANGER! MOTHERFUCKING STRANGER DANGER, CUT MY LEG OFF, EW, I WAS TOUCHED!
UP: After weirdo left, the blue-haired girl and I continued to talk about our love for cats, and after establishing we both also have cat tattoos, I asked her where she goes and she said, “Kyklops” and I said “THAT’S WHERE I GOT MINE TOO!” and she yelled, “OMG WHO DID IT?!” and I screamed, “ERIN!” and she was all, “SAME!!!” and then we high-fived, but that was an example of an OK stranger-touch.
DOWN: Henry didn’t answer when I called him.
UP: As I crossed the street by the 7-11 to go back to work, some guy in a red shirt smiled at me and said hello, then he asked what my name was. I told him and then asked him what his name was, because I hear this is how conversations go. “Francis,” he said. “Can I get your number?” I laughed and said no but boy, was I happy to be getting hit on by a relatively normal-looking person! I usually get the ones who are one step above the Toxic Avenger. And Henry, after a few beers.
DOWN: I did not give him my number and now I’m wondering WHAT IF HE WAS THE ONE!?
So many more people would probably ask me for my number if I looked like this2:
 Clearly too much happened to put in a single #greetingsfromerinslunchbreak post card, so it’s bloggin’ time.
 I made Wendy take this picture and it turned into A Real Production.
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