1. Late friday night, Hy Vee is deserted, and I'm looking for Pirate's Booty, and there's this girl who looks like Juliette Lewis in "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" and she's wearing brown cutoffs, striped socks pulled up to her knees and one of those vomit green kurt cobain sweaters. She's looking at the milk, and dancing to her Ipod. Oh and she's rail thin and 5'11" I'm instantly in that peculiar 'girl in the grocery store' sort of love.
2. This morning about 9, it seemed like women have caught up with men in the "don't give a fuck how I look" department. Sweat pants, baggy tee, uncombed hair and flipflops. This freckly auburn-haired girl who looks vaguely like a Kennedy was in line ahead of me, sporting major plumber's crack.
3. A girl whose mom did daycare with our kids when they were small, who I've known since she was 4, is in the HyVee the other night wearing a denim skirt, black denim jacket, knee high boots, and a big, faux leopard skin hat. Her boyfriend was a big sweaty guy in probably the most retarded looking fat pants I've seen in 5 years and a hawaiian shirt. Dude, 1992 called and wants their pants back. I do not, apparently, rate an introduction; it seems she's in that peculiar state where she's with this guy, but he's kind of an embarrassment.
The point being, I guess, that the store is where I see people being real.