Last Saturday I got up bright and early-ish and headed off to Kroger with my roommate to enjoy the promised (free) bounties of their grand re-opening. Also, I needed conditioner. I got lots of free food, and it was a tasty food too but it was all rather salty. Corned beef? Pasta sauce? Sea salt potato chips? You get the idea. So it was very exciting to see a nice middle-aged man at an orange juice station. "I love orange juice!" I said to myself and made a beeline for it.
"Hi!" I said brightly to this nice man in a Santa hat. He greeted me similarly, and, eying my snappy brown hat, said, "I like that hat. I like your style." "Well," I said very cheerily, "you have a very nice hat too."
At this point he just started looking at me and smiling while I stood waiting for him to pour that dratted orange juice. "Well I just like your style!" he enthused. "Um, thanks," I said. Give me the orange juice. "What's your name?" he asked, still beaming at me relentlessly. I tell him, hoping it will get me the orange juice faster. Although at this point I was very ready to go get the egg nog a few steps away.
"Well, Miss Julie, I just got to ask for your number!"
Give me the orange juice!
"I...don't think my boyfriend would appreciate that..."
"Probably not, I'm sure you've got two."
Finally he pours me the most measly amount of orange juice ever, wishes me a happy holiday then looks me up and down before his parting words: "Why...I...I just like how you walk, I like your style!"
Yeah, okay, sir, thanks for giving me a creepy thing to associate orange juice with.