I'm in line at the CVS. This is unfortunate, because there is always a really long line at the CVS, and today is no exception. So I have nothing to do but try, unsuccessfully, to ignore the weedy young woman and her gay boyfriend ahead of me in line gab.
She is so thin and pale that it kind of hurts to look at her. She has long, curly hair, which she has in a ponytail, pulled back so violently that the curly hair lining her skull is yanked straight. She has goo in her hair. The kind that smells vaguely of coconuts and is meant to de-frizz your hair, but that makes young women who wear it look like their hair is wet. She has very very long, square-tipped, French manicured nails. And she is wearing too much makeup. Small compliment: cute shoes.
He is in his early to mid twenties and has braces.
They are talking about work, their co-workers, how fat someone is, blah blah blah. She says something about her mother coming to visit. Clearly, it is not a happy visit. To which he inquires:
"Is she still drinking?"
Uh, pardon? They then launch into a way-too-confessional discussion of her mother's drinking and substance abuse issues. She is coming up from somewhere in the deep South for a wee visit. He wants to know what she will do to deal with the potential mom-on-a-bender scenario. Solution?
"I'm not giving her the keys to my aparmtent."
Oh my. He then asks if her boyfriend is coming. "Now which one is he again?"
"My aunt Darlene's husband."
Pardon? Someone needs to work a little on their relationship hygiene. Holy cow.
They get up to the register and she grabs a package of Starburst, noting that this is her lunch. Well, hey, I suppose it is a lo-cal lunch if it's all you're having. She then requests a packet of cigarettes, and is shocked and dismayed when the cashier tells her all they have left are the lights. She may not want extra calories, but boy howdy, did she want her share of tar. The cashier asked, "Do you want the lights?" To which she answered, "Lights? Fuck no."