"I feel like a bad kid!" That's what I told the check-out girl at Sheetz this morning as I purchased a half-carton of cigarettes. (I didn't even know there were half-cartons...) The cigarettes aren't for me--my parents sent me some money to pick them up for my brother. Apparently they are two times the price in New York. Side note: in the note my mother sent with the money, she wrote, "We know you don't like to do this..." Ha! But seriously, I must have really internalized those "don't smoke!" messages from childhood.
Complicating matters even more, my next stop was the local liquor store. I needed to pick up some rum for a party tonight.
So...I bought cigarettes and liquor, all before 10:00 a.m. Total badass. Too bad I didn't also need to pick up some bullets or something.
(Somewhat negating my bad kid cred: when I was in the liquor store, I thought, "Wow. It seems a lot bigger in here." So I asked the woman behind the counter if they had expanded. Her reply, "Yes. A year ago." So I am not what you would call a frequent customer...)
2 comments:
I've had to buy cigarettes for my brother before--I get upset every time because I'm paranoid that they will think it's ME that smokes!
(which I did for about three weeks a few years ago. Just to see what the fuss was all about--turns out I was unimpressed).
That was great rum-spiked cider, by the way!
Ha! So glad that you understand me. We are kindred spirits on this one. :)
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