YOU challenge

The current blogging trend: the ten day you challenge. (The you must be in italics. Because it is all about me, people! ...juuuust kidding. Sometimes designs make me wonder...) 
Due to my lack of ingenuity, I am going to try this out. Because blogging is therapeutic. Also because I want blogging to become a habit again.

So, here's the deal:

Ten secrets
Nine loves
Eight fears
Seven wants
Six places
Five foods
Four books
Three films
Two songs
one picture
      of yourself

Now I am sure I can follow this outline. ...or maybe not.
I am such a literalist...but I think I might be able to infer what they mean from this.
Oh, we will see.
It will start later, maybe today, maybe tomorrow. There was nothing in the "rules" about it being ten consecutive days.

I had thought I had posted a post a few days ago, but I am glad to see that I haven't. That post was full of whining about things I can't change.

Also, have you ever felt just, so overwhelmed?
I do, though I don't like admitting it.
I think when I do feel overwhelmed, that it's a reminder that I need to take a step back and a chill-pill. It's a reminder that I am not in control, nor do I need to be.

Because I really like being in control, following a nice little agenda of my own creation. I'm all, "Look at me, I've got this!"
When I do that, God is like, "Girl, you'd better be relying on me. You have not got it. Nor do you want it."
And then I realize He is right (He always is)
It is so much better to just let go of the things I let myself stress out over. It is better to cling to my Rock than to get swept up in the tide of busyness and TTMBDOETWWE (things that must be done or else the world will end), an acronym that should never be used, because
A) it is dumb, long and hard to remember
and
B) because God is in control
and
C) the sun still rises every day, regardless of what I do.
So, I was told that I should make a list of priorities, pray about it, do things to the best of my ability, and remember who God is.

Good plan.


Do you have any challenges for me, readers? I'd looove to hear them! Comment away!

Avocados? Yes, that sums me up.

My little sister's poem about me from a few years ago. It was written on a scrap bit of paper, and so I thought I should transcribe it digitally.
Her choice of words to describe me is telling:

Kenzie

Bold, Silly

Hazel Eyes, Red Hair

Prom, Making Movies, Camp, Friends, Avocados, Tea

Smooth

The Tale of the Taco Part 3

Yes, everyone, I am seriously dragging this story out. I want to develop some sort of storytelling skills, and while this tale may seem mundane to some, I think a good storyteller can transform the mundane into the magical.
...okay, maybe I won't make tacos magical, but still.
Bear with me.

This is part one, and this is part two, if you want to catch up to speed.

So, when I left off, I was planning on walking down to the brightly colored addition to our neighborhood, the grocery store.
My mission? To visit the taco truck.

 So I grabbed some cash and my phone and walked down to the taco truck. Don Pedro's Taco's was painted on the side of the truck, among many Spanish phrases about catering.
One side of the truck had a canopy. Underneath was a wall of plexiglass so one could see all that went into the making of a taco. A whiteboard with Spanish words was propped up, so you knew what Don Pedro was offering for the day. 
 
I saw that there was a sink, a griddle, a condiment bar, and shelves all within this taco truck. I approached the ordering window, somewhat hesitantly, smiling and trying to remember any and all Spanish I might be able to use.

Don Pedro (for that is his name) saw me coming. He smiled and said, "Hello! How are you today baby?"

Don Pedro, a man of about 50, spoke in broken English. He was short, chipper, and kindly.
He washed his hands and took my order. He prepared the food carefully, and showed it to me before boxing it up, to make sure all was right.
What a jewel.

He asked me if I was my father's daughter, because Dad and Don Pedro had done some chit-chatting about families and such.

In fact, the next time my parents went down to the taco truck, Don Pedro congratulated them on having me, almost as if I was a newborn.
"Congratulations to you! You have a big daughter! I saw her the other day!", he told them as a way of congratulating them.

...I'm sure he meant well. Big doesn't mean large, not always.


Well, anyways, my first visit was a success. I ordered my food, paid, and went on my way.

The next visits weren't quite as easy.

After the first few visits of easily ordering my food in English, Don Pedro decided that I needed to start broadening my scope.
I was always greeted with a "Hello Baby!" whenever I came down.

To be noted:
If read in the wrong way, it sounds like Don Pedro is a creeper.
Let me clarify: he's not.
At all.
His pronunciation of baby is the Spanish pronunciation for infant. It's like honey or sweetie. I just thought I should alleviate the confusion. That is all.

So, After easily ordering in English, Don Pedro decided to go deaf to English.
I noticed it the next time I went down to order.
"Hello Don Pedro! How are you?"
"Holá Bay-be! No, no, es '¿Cómo está?'"
"ohh, ¿Cómo está?'"
Don Pedro beamed.
"Bien, bien, gracias. E tú?"
"Muy Bien! So, today I would like to have 6 chicken tacos for my family-"
"No, no, baby. Not like that. En Español, por favor."
"ummm...seis pollo tacos, por favor?"

He laughed at my silly grammar.  I'm sure I have a funny accent in Spanish.(And no, the tacos were not all for me.)


...and so he taught me to order in Spanish properly.
 "Yo necesito seis tacos de pollo. Uno taco plano, y cinco tacos con todo, por favor."


He told me what to say, and had me repeat it back to him until I could get it word-perfect. He told me "no food unless you say it right!" 
His yummy food is/was a good motivator. [And it's not just because I am my parent's big daughter.]


Don Pedro is one of those happy rays of light that makes your day a better one, just for getting to interact with him.

He has a daughter who is in her late 20's (I think she's a doctor in Mexico) and two sons away at university in Mexico. One is 19 and the other is 17.
He and his wife decided to come to the US to sell tacos.
I really hope he sticks around.

Easily startled...APPARENTLY

(Promise, I'll wrap up the story about the taco truck soon. I had a crazy thing happen.)

I shouldn't watch suspense-filled shows.
Especially if I have something in my hand.

Tonight, I watched X-files with my parents.

I'm new to X-files, but we have them on DVD. We're on the first season, and it's funny to laugh at the things that were cool in the early 90's. I found the first few episodes to be cheesy. I liked them though.


I have finally reached the point (or so I thought) where TV doesn't phase me.
I know that it's all pretend.

X-files somehow seems more real-to-life.
This show has somehow tricked me.

Let me preface by saying that this was a creepy episode.
I knew that the suspense would build.

I knew that there was going to be something unexpected.

The plot of this show was that there was a group of physicists drilling ice in Alaska and learning about the Earth's previous climates.
...After a year of drilling, they died.
They died from killing one another.
OooooOOOoooo.....

After the FBI and other scientists looked into the deaths, they figured out that in this ice, there was an alien parasite: a gross, squirmy parasite that would get into one's bloodstream and feed on a chemical released by aggression.

Once it got into a person's bloodstream, it would squirm around and make people aggressive to the point of mass murder.
The parasite was easily communicable, too.
Thank goodness that Mulder and Sculley and their team were isolated from the general population.

Someone in their group could have the parasite and kill everyone. They had all been exposed.
The suspense built.

And then, the suspense kept building.
I thought, any minute someone is going to pop out, and the suspense will be resolved.
Still, the suspense built.

I now know what I'm afraid of:

not knowing and having to wait to find out.

(this means I'm afraid of Christmas? Don't be silly)


The moment of drama was coming.
THE SUSPENSE STILL BUILT.
Finally, there was a mini-resolution.

I was relieved.

That's not so bad! 


....Hey, I'm better about surprises than I used to be!


I was thinking, when,








BAM!!
-- it happened, just as I was getting comfortable with the plot.

I jumped.
I gave out an, "ahh!".
As I jumped, the drink I was holding jumped, too.
It jumped all over my parents.

Not. Good.

Oh. No.

I thought that scared-jump-thing only happened in movies.
I am so embarrassed.
And I thought to blog about it! Isn't that something!
My ego?
NO SUCH THING.

We interrupt the taco tales to bring you...

Ramblings! Yaaay, right?

This is sad. Why am I doing this? I need sleep.

It is crazy how thoughts come to me when I am supposed to be doing something profitable, like studying or sleeping or cleaning.  (I was supposed to be doing some/all of the above things today)

I have had so many good (ok, who knows how good they'll turn out to be) creative thoughts come to mind today!

...this is the beauty of sticky notes. I'll jot this stuff down for later. Hopefully I'll remember these things when I have the time to work on them. 

WHY CAN'T CREATIVITY STRIKE WHEN I AM READY FOR IT? TELL ME. Please? I would like to know.

Annnnnd, some random thoughts:

I am getting a little bit too poetic and artistic for my own good. Haha, have a conversation with me and you will see. 

For example:

...I was talking about how I was glad that it finally rained today because the clouds created too much tension. They hung over us, dark and brooding. 

No, seriously, people I interacted with (customers, strangers, humanity in general) were in funky moods due to the weather. 

It's a science thing, promise. Don't look so skeptical.  

Thankfully I just said that weather-stuff to my family and not to someone who would think I was a crazy bag-lady. 

Also, I have expensive taste. Toasted brie is pretty much the best stuff ever. Pair it with raspberry preserves and crackers, and you have a really good snack. 

Cherry Garcia is the best flavor of ice cream. Period. 

Speaking of food, today I made food! You should be proud.
It was my own simple recipe.
It was going to be Chicken Fajitas, but I instead made sautéed chicken with onions. I was über-healthy and used (yum) coconut oil. I highly recommend that you cook with coconut oil. It's healthy and yummy. That's a rare thing. I made a fusion-type sauce, too.

I learned that TV Shows can make me cry. I feel like the lamest person for crying as I watched the last episode of The Lone Gunmen. Those actors really made the characters seem real. 

You should watch that show (Disclamer: Only watch it if you're older, like at least over 13. If you're a minor, ask your parents...it can get adultish in parts, I mean, it was created by the makers of X-Files.)

The last time I cried at a fictional bit of art...well, it has been a while. Secondhand Lions can almost always make me cry though.

Everyone can watch that movie. 

Everyone should watch that movie. 

It. Is. Amazing.

The Tale of the Taco Part 2

I left off with the set-up of my story.
I'm dragging this thing out as far as it will go. 
So, if you missed out on my ambling preamble, you can go here.
I shall continue to regale you readers with my story.

So, the blue-and-yellow grocery store that sits at the entrance to my neighborhood has become a hotspot of sorts.

Some people set up a few canopies and fill tables with stuff.

I have no idea what the stuff is, (because I have no need for more stuff) but I think it is of the yard-sale caliber.

Once, I saw a man with a huge barbecue grill, attempting to sell pulled pork to passerby.
I didn't try it. I'm a discerning eater.

Then, one day, a taco truck appeared down at the store.

I shrugged it off.

At first, I thought, no way am I eating tacos from a truck. That seems gross and unsanitary. 


The taco truck continued to appear.

My dad decided that it was worth a shot to try some of the food, especially since the taco truck had stuck around for a few weeks.

If it was bad, then we would know. No big deal.

So, dad got a taco, and informed us that it was actually really good.

Thus it began.

The taco truck would appear every weekend, Thursday-Sunday.
I never went down to the taco truck, but I really did enjoy the delish tacos.
This taco guy knew how to make some tacos.
The corn tortillas were warm and almost crunchy, filled with grilled chicken, sautéed onions, cheese, lettuce, and cilantro. On the side he included a poblano pepper, wedge of lime, and verde salsa.

He was a food artist.

I didn't know who this guy was, but boy, he could make a good taco.

The best part? $2 for a taco that could fill you up.

One day, Dad went out-of-town and I wanted a taco.
Not just any taco, but a taco truck taco.
A taco from the taco truck that sat at the blue and yellow store.

Dad was the usual taco-getter, but since he wasn't around, I volunteered to pop down to order the food...


What wonders would this taco truck hold? 
What was the taco-maker like? 

Find out in the next post!

The Tale of the Taco Part 1

I'm off my crazy makeup rant...for now. In the meantime I will share a story.


My neighborhood is a little bit of a hodgepodge.
Actually, it's a big hodgepodge.

Its heyday was in the building boom of the 70's, so many of the houses reflect that. But this place is not a subdivision.
It's like a bunch of people (people with varying tastes in architecture) bought individual plots of land and built what they liked on it.
The previous owner of my house wanted to have the largest split-foyer house in the county.

Totes groovy. 

He succeeded in his goal, but, needless to say, we've renovated, removed shag carpeting, and made it a more appealing place to live.

Oh, I'm going off on a tangent already...I'll wrap this up.

Anyways, you have your McMansions, your horse farms, you have "normal people" ...and you have the grocery store.
This grocery store is painted vibrant shades of blue and yellow, covered in Spanish signs.
It proudly sits at the entrance of my neighborhood. It's the landmark we use when telling people how to get to our house.
...It's a recent acquisition.
And when I say "grocery store", I actually mean renovated gas station that doesn't sell gas anymore.

I'm sure that my next-door neighbor who calls us to complain about how we trim our hedges is thrilled about this.

Like I said, my neighborhood is an eclectic place.

In the days before this store's blue-and-yellow glory, when it was but a lowly beige gas station, my sisters and I called it the "choo-choo store".
Why?
Because
A) little kids like silly repetitive names for things. A train was only fitting.
and
B) because we bought many a pack of gum there with dad after a Saturday of picking up sticks. [Maybe chew-chew was what we actually meant...who knows?]



All of this typing and I haven't gotten to the point yet.
I think this post is long enough as it is.


This tale is to be continued...

Work in Progress

Ok, so I'm stepping off of one soapbox [makeup] to step right onto another.
I must just be in a passionate mindset right now.

I just had a vision.
I had a vision of what I can do.
What I want to do with my life.

I know I want to make an impact on the world.

I know that a cushy job would not make me happy.

I know that I am happiest when I am actively doing something to help others.

Humanitarian?
Not quite.
It's something bigger.

I know that there are many things in this world that are just wrong.

I want to fix them.

My goal is to fix the world.
Well, not me, all by myself, but to be used by God to make an impact.

I really enjoy fixing things.
Maybe it's delusional of me to say, but when I see a need I know I can help with, I want to help.

I want to make it right, even if it "isn't my problem" (within reason of course. Being all nosey and handy-helper is just sooo annoying. I like people who understand boundaries. Hopefully I am one of those people.)

I have noted a few things about myself, the general population, and life:

1. People are allergic to many things nowadays, without knowing why. There needs to be more research on allergies. (is it the genetic modification of foods?)
2. People in general are getting fatter (or eating-disorder-ridden), lazier, unhealthier, and unhappier. 
3. There's a lot of information on this here interweb, but it's hard to sort through and know who is dependable, and who is a crazy nutjob. (I'm dependable, promise)
4. Cancer rates are soaring. 
5. Many mainstream products are full of junk and the companies making them are allowed to get away with it.
6. Cheap food is almost always bad for you. Poor people can only afford cheap food. This is bad. 
7. It pretty much seems like the world is falling apart. 

So, I have gotten the drive to be a changer. 

I want to start a revolution. 

I want humanity to be healthy and happy. Am I asking for too much? Maybe.

I can help with the health part by offering good alternatives and information to the mainstream world. Hence my desire to go into biochemistry /food&nutrition /journalism.

As far as the happiness of the world goes? 

The speaker at my church said something convicting this past Sunday. 

He was downtown passing out bits of paper one day. 

These were no ordinary papers. 

The papers had the greatest news ever written on them. 

They told how.

How to have a relationship with the perfect God of the Universe.

How to be right with God. 

How to commune and talk to Him. 

How to be free.

How Jesus paid for every sin we've committed. 

How to experience the greatest forgiveness and love ever. 

How to be clean from evil and guilt. 

How to be utterly accepted and complete. 

How to love others.

I mean, who wouldn't want that? 

Anyways, so a lady came up to him and said, "You can come down here with your papers, but we need real help, not pamphlets."

There's a big opportunity presented in that. 

There are big opportunities everywhere to make an impact, if we can only take the time.

Oh man, as the speaker was relaying that story, I was convicted. 

She was right. The tracts are great and all, but if the reality of those papers aren't lived out, what good are they? 

Personally, I don't want to have to hand out a paper for others to know that an amazing relationship with Christ is real. 

I also don't want the proclamation of the goodness of God to be like a sales pitch that makes people ask, "What's the catch?"

Not that there is anything wrong with pamphlets. It is a tool that works.

I know that my personality just isn't usually receptive to pamphlets. If someone wants to get through to me, it's not by just saying it, or handing me a paper, or even making an emotion-filled plea. 

If someone wanted to make an impact on my life, I would want them to come alongside me personally and build a relationship. 

I would want the person to live out their life in such a way that I would want the happiness that they had. 

I would want to see for myself that Christianity is not about being brainwashed or judging others or reforming yourself. 

(Why is it that Christians are labeled as being judgmental and unloving? It's terrible that we have that bad rap. We should be the inverse. We have no right to hate anyone. That's another post.)

Anyways, as I was saying, I would watch this proverbial person's peace and contentment. I would see how they loved others. I would see the facts.

Leading by example is pretty much the best way to get through to me. 

True story. 

I want to live my live out in such a way that other people see God and Jesus in me and want Him, too. 

I want the world to wonder, "What is in that Bible she's reading that makes her so fufilled?"

They would read it. Then the world would be happy, too.

This post is a mess. 

I haven't taken the time to organize it properly...maybe I will later. 

Chilling out

I've calmed down.

It still makes me annoyed that companies who claim to "help find a cure for breast cancer" put chemicals in their products that increase the likelihood of cancer!

Do these companies have the intellect of bricks? (No offense, bricks)

It's weird that this is all coming to light as I've just started a job at a cosmetics store. I don't know what you'd call that coincidence, or is it coincidence?

Just so you know, not all of the products we sell at my store are bad.

There are a few makeup lines that are good for one's skin. Like Physicians Formula. So, I'm not a mega-hypocrite.

Yay Physician's Formula!

I love that company.
Not only do they sell good makeup (that's moderately priced) they sell mostly-free-of-bad-stuff makeup. It's also hypoallergenic, meaning my sensitive skin doesn't break out when I use their stuff.

We carry that brand at my store.
I'm a happy camper about that.

I may have lost some of my readers with that last post and part of this post.

Not everyone cares about makeup or about slowly poisoning themselves. (I'm going to assume that it's my male reader-base)

Well, guess what, my male readers?
Those chemicals are in your "beauty" products too (or whatever you call the stuff you use...personal care products? That's better. Anyways...)

So, now that I'm not livid at the big chemical companies sneaking gunk into their products, I'm going to no longer bore you with my rant.

You should go sign the petition. The petition for healthy cosmetics/personal care items, that is.

I can understand free choice and capitalism, but there should be some common sense laws in there too. Most people don't realize that their "Herbal Essence" is not full of herbs and "natural" products.


Next post will be about happier things, I promise.

A rant. Moral: be careful what you use.

I am so ill right now.

Not "sick ill" but, "I can't believe how dumb people are", ill.
I'm, "I can't believe what lies people ingest", ill.

I've just discovered that pretty much everything I have cosmetic-wise is chock-full of parabens and potentially harmful chemicals.

I've also realized that 60% of what we put on our skin is absorbed into the body.

Guess what parabens do?

They cause cancer, that's what. They've been linked to all sorts of nastiness. They mimic estrogen, meaning, they can increase the likelihood of breast cancer.

You might think I'm a nutjob, but guess what?

Many of the chemicals in beauty and personal care products haven't been researched fully. We don't know what the long-term effects of the goo we slather on will be.


And guess what else?
I just bought some.

I was told that pretty much every drug-store band of shampoo (yes, even that wonderful-smelling Herbal Essence I loved so much) was bad for my hair.

I was told this by a stylist, so of course I believed her. She knows what she's talking about.

Why are they bad?
Well, the alcohol and chemicals in that stuff is crazy.
Not good for the hair.
At all.
She was right.

I was told to buy some Redken (read: expensive) shampoo. I was told that that stuff is fantastic for my hair.
I was told that it would work miracles. (in so many words)

ha. ha. ha.

I just researched Redken's ingredient list: not good. It has a few different chemicals that have been linked to some bad side-effects in the long term.

Honestly, I feel like a crazy person, because, well, it feels like me vs. the entire cosmetic industry.

I'm one of those wackos who wants to know what exactly is in the stuff she's putting on, not what celebrity is currently endorsing it or what the product is supposed to do.

From now on, I'm only buying the stuff with chemicals that are not linked to cancer, birth defects, and toxicity.

Call me crazy, but I am not such a fan of pumping my body full of junk.
I started out with food and reading labels for bad stuff.  It limited my options.

Now it's time to worry about the beauty aspect. There aren't many bad-stuff-free options out there.
Ugh.
Stupid cosmetic companies.

I am not going to turn into some obsessive freak about makeup, but I am really really put-out right now.

I shelled out $40 for hair care products that have ingredients that may potentially be the death of me.

I say better safe than sorry.

Also, you should check this video out. It explains my rant better than I can:

Dissatisfied Customers

Oh hey, you guys.
So...
Funny stories?
I said that?
What was I thinking?

The thing about funny stories is that they are sometimes only funny when you're in the context of the situation.

So, since I can't think of anything super hilarious at the moment, I'll relate a story about an unhappy lady.

One day a lady came in with a return. (She was super-nice bytheway)
She was returning a CHI straightener.

As we returned the item, I asked her what she didn't like about the product. (It's always good to find out the cons of the products)

...she told me that it didn't get hot enough for her hair.


Didn't get hot enough?? What? 


She said she wanted something with more heat to really straighten her hair.

Ok, you guys, in case you didn't know, the CHI brand is a professional line. It's the top-of-the-line straightener.

It's also $$$ to buy.

 We use it in the store's salon.
Just so you know, it gets pretty flipping hot.

Also, every stylist I've talked to has advised me to not straighten my hair unless I feel like it's a dire need.
It turns out that straighteners aren't the best thing for human hair.
Straighteners are basically two hot metal plates that sear your hair into shape. They force the waves to be still.
It's not good.

CHI is about as hot as they come, too.

I thought about asking her if she had tried plugging it in, but I'm not about to make a customer feel dumb.

Anyways, the return went without a hitch, but personally, I think that lady didn't feel like cutting her hair.

I think she might have wanted to sear it off instead.

a short interview

Where to begin with this post?
Honestly, I have no idea.

Fact of life: if you're going to apply for a job, some minute interest is necessary in the nature of your job.

Admittedly, I'm not the girliest of girls, but I like makeup.
I really do.
Everything beauty-oriented fascinates me, because, well, it's typical, right?
I'm totally a typical person.
Well, not really, but that's besides the point.
The point of females being obsessed with beauty and making themselves beautiful.
[I'm not obsessed, promise.]

Today, at work (at the lovely make-up store), a girl called in, wanting to speak to a manager about a possible job opening.
This is how the conversation went (I was filled in)

Manager: Hi, how can I help you today?

Girl: Hi, I was wondering if you were hiring. Are you?

M: Well, we currently don't have any openings, but we will be hiring for the holiday season soon, and I'll begin reviewing applications shortly.

G: Ohh, okay.

M: Well, since you're on the phone, let me go ahead and ask a few preliminary questions. What experience do you have with makeup?

G: I don't use makeup very much.

M: Well, this is a makeup store. Would you be willing to come into work wearing makeup?

G: Um, well, I don't wear makeup. I actually really hate makeup.

M: Well, what kind of register experience do you have?

G: 8 years.

M: Great! Well, we'll see if we have any openings. We'll be in touch...have a great day.


What kind of girl applies to a makeup store and announces to the store manager: "I don't like makeup"?

Lipstick lets you create kiss marks,
for crying out loud!

What kind of girl doesn't like makeup?
(Deep down, every girl likes to be pretty, and therefore, every girl likes makeup. Not that makeup itself makes you pretty, but it does accentuate your best features and give you confidence)
Anywho, that girl is sure to get hired.

Also, 8 years of cashier experience???
That is crazy talk.
I don't mind ringing things up on a register at all, but making that my job for 8 years??
I would go insane.

Hey-o

Hey you lovely readers!
A post is coming, I promise.
Life has gotten a little bit busy, but I'm finally adjusting to the new schedule.
I have some hilarious stories to share.
First things first though, I must go for a quick run.
Stay tuned, you wonderful people, you!

a proposal of marriage?

Why are there creepers in the world?
Ok, I was in the grocery store.  
THE GROCERY STORE, did you catch that?

A guy walks by me.
He's maybe late 20's, african-american, pushing a buggy with a toddler in it.
He didn't give off a creepy vibe at the moment.
His kid was cute.
But then, guess what he does?

He looks me up and down.
He says, "Dang girl, you're fine!"
I ignore him, hoping that that will be enough for him to let me shop in peace.
I become intensely interested in the cheese section.

He stops in front of me.
Then he asks me if I'm married. Like, he is blocking my way (It was a small grocery store)

Huh?!? 

Of course, I can't lie, so I, flustered, tell him that, no, I am not married.

Note to self: next time I will say yes. 
I will say, "yes, I am married. I am married to a...a...SUMO WRESTLER! He's a jealous guy, and he's right over there, so you had better back off, buddy!", but I didn't say that.
 
Then he asks my age.

This is a creeper, people.

A creeper.

I want to run away.
Really.
But it's a grocery store, and I have a cart full of groceries to buy.
Important groceries like milk and yogurt and other things I must have to survive.
Things like whipped cream.  

He also has a toddler, remember.
A toddler. 
It may not have been his child, but it wasn't helping his cause.

I just stare at him, baffled.  I'm still processing what is happening.

There's a pause.

"Too young?" he asks me, finally.


Relieved, of course I said yes, I was much too young, and I quickly left the area before he said anything else.

I whipped out my phone to call someone just so he wouldn't try talking to me again.

I guess it's really hard to pick up chicks in this economy, man, I tell you what.

Resorting to the grocery store?

Being so forward as to ask a girl if she's married?
Laame.

Gentlemen, take note. That is not the way to talk to a girl. Nor is it a good way to talk to any human being.  

I just don't understand some people...

...but I do love get fuzzy: