Shit faced and Schmooed

Whilst shopping late last evening at the grocery store, I felt a bit like a city girl traveling through an old cowboy town. The reason for that? I was perusing the fine periodical department when a dude came up the aisle. My gut told me to get away from that guy, he’s a creep. I moved my carriage out of his way, and finishing with my magazine, headed onto the dairy department. Creepy Magazine Aisle dude suddenly appeared in the same aisle, all smiles. He said, “you are incredibly gorgeous.” (Yep, I know, see that’s my goal. I make myself “incredibly gorgeous” for drunkards.) I mumbled, made no eye contact and tried to move on to the bakery department. Only he then proceeded to ask me what I was doing after this. After this? What am I doing after food shopping? *palm to forehead slap* Most nights it was easy to forget there was a tavern in the same shopping center as the grocery store. But tonight, this adventure was reminiscent of a girl in an old Western movie encountering some idgit who’s just stepped out of a saloon. I actually handled it quite well, Schmooie, and I didn’t even need you. I told him I had to go take care of my husband and pointed to some guy walking toward me. Schmooie, thanks a lot. I blame you for the drunken men coming on to me. Seems drunkards have no problem with approaching me, so why do you, fool?