Can I get a witness? Oh, hey, cool: a witness. Much obliged.

[My friend Jessie came into the store last night to give me a tote bag he’d found that he thought I’d appreciate. He was more than correct, and I was cooing over said notary tote (totary?) when a customer meandered in and randomly started telling us about his new crush.]

Customer: “I met the cutest guy this week.”

Me: “Oh?”

Customer: “Yeah, he’s awkward, like me.”

Me: “Aww, that’s sweet.”

Customer: “He sold me bad drugs.”

Me: “And that’s… wait, what?”

Customer: “He’s a really bad drug dealer. I saw him today, too. He was drunk and had just fallen off his bicycle, so his face was pretty messed up.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “It was very endearing.”

Me: “That’s one way of looking at it…”

Customer: “So do you think I should, like, pursue him? He’s so awkward, like I am.”

Me: “Okay… awkward can be nice, but the parts where he’s a drug dealer and gets so trashed that he falls off of his bike are kinda cons. Y’know?”

Customer: “Yeah, I guess. But I really like how awkward he is.”

And then he started licking the side of his beer bottle and drifted out of the store, and Jessie was like, “Wow. That… legitimately just happened.” And I was all, “SEE?! I DO NOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP.”

A few minutes later, a different customer asked which solvents I prefer. I told him that I don’t use them personally, and he got all weirded out and was like, “… Oh. Awkward.”

Bitch, you don’t know from awkward.

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