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Friday, February 21, 2003
Warning! This post contains a tedious ColesDude related rant!

But you can thank your lucky stars it isn't ANOTHER Pick Your Face related post. Although it hasn't been on yet, today.

So, if you hadn't noticed, my love-life seems to suck total ass. I'm so bitter and bitchy, I can't even be bothered to pun on that last sentence. I'll leave it for the Open House On Dawei-Slammage and Heckling Troupe (ie Ruth and Sam) to mock. The only vague possibility I have at the moment is this ColesCharacter. How embarrassing! I'm getting worked up over a peon of the retail world! Anyway, as I'm so lame, I have memorised his working timetable (well, two shifts that I know of). Stalking Mission Alpha (of this week) failed miserably as he wasn't there. So I took this overcast Friday morning to launch Stalking Mission Beta.

I was totally shitting myself all morning due to nerves. I had to binge out on Diet Coke and Kerry-Anne Kennerly. (Sidenote: Never. Again.) I finally worked up the stones to get down to cunting Coles, only to find it PACKED with single mother plebs buying disposible nappies and cigarettes. They must have been really desperate for the latter, as Days of Our Lives was starting soon.

Anyway, I grab a basket and just randomly throw items in. I didn't see a list at home so I have no idea what I'm buying, just blindly throwing goods into the basket, hoping that my purchases wont make me seem like a loser (No-brand products were banished... not that they aren't normally). After a while, I figure it's time to go, so I start the walk of shame down the line of cashiers, each one staring right through me like my horny-intentions were obvious. Maybe I was tenting. I wouldn't know, as my legs had lost feeling around the dogfood ailse. I see him working there, swiping those goods like the pro he is, the line is empty behind the girl getting her products scanned, there are few enough products left on the conveyer belt thing to warrant me starting up behind her... but he looks down at the cash register, either not seeing me, or avoiding me. I baulk, my intestines instantly liquify, and I haul ass to the Express lanes and some hideous bitch serves me instead.


All these purchases were pointless, and it cost me thirty dollars! The fuck? I grab my bags, and walk solemnly to the car. I take a moment, turn on the engine, and Kylie Minogue taunts me with some cheery bubblegum pop. Shove it, Kylie. I get home and unpack, and take stock of what I bought. Brie? Hot dog rolls? ANOTHER shrink-wrapped cucumber? Okay, so the last one was a conscious choice in case I did go through his ailse. Everyone needs a prop! But what the hell am I going to do with plaque protecting dental floss? I hate dental floss, and I freak out whenever I need to use it. When my dentist does it, he flosses so violently I spit intestinal fluids. And why plaque protecting? I bet it tastes like ass on a string. I could have at least got mint flavoured or cinnamin. Mmm, cinnamin.

(Psst, Auntie Butt, this is about the time I messaged you!)

But then I turn around, and I see a pretty large shopping list my mum has left for things she needs at work, like bleach. It's my window of opportunity to go back! Of course, going back to Coles twice in one day is a huge faux pas, especially if that chick collecting for... something sees me, or that lecherous tool in the KeyCutting place. But then my power song comes on: The Jason Nevins remix of N.E.R.D's Rockstar. Bitchin'.

I strap my thang on, and motor out.

I storm through Coles, getting everything on my list, and just as I pull into into Cashier Row, I see his ailse is free. I'm pretty embarrassed, but I truck on. There's another ailse free next to his, totally empty, but I've had that chick before, and she scares me. I pretend to flick through a mag covering Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt's inevitable divorce (because she's a man). So it's my moment of truth, and we get our chat awwwwwn! Well, sort of. He sort of perks up, and asks how I'm doing, and I bitch out my lack of sleep and how this is my second trip down to Coles already that day (in case he saw me and thinks I'm a tool). And he said: "Really? I didn't see you. You should have come through my aisle!"

Unh. Headslap.

So we are talking, and I blather that noone is coming out tonight with me (which is true, cunting assholes), and he was all sympathetic and asked where I would go. And I was all witty saying: "anywhere with booze, I don't care. I'd go to that RSL down the road with the war vets!" He giggled. Although he might think I'm an alcoholic, as everytime I talk to him I am either hangover, going out that night, or wanting to go out and get wrecked. But anyway then he says...

"You smell really good."

Heeeeeeeeeeee. And down boy! I should have bought a box of tissues. So we blather about cologne (I say its Armani and wave some in his direction, God I'm transparent) and stuff, and I ask him if he's going out tonight. He's all "probably not", but he said he definitely was tomorrow, and he was adament that I should meet him there. Eeeeeeeeee!

Unfortunately that load (heh) of shopping cost another fifty bucks. It costs me eighty dollars to have drinks with someone, and even then it isn't totally certain? I. Suck.

It's lucky I have my parents' chargecard, or otherwise I'd have no love life at all.