I'm seriously crushing on the woman who works at the kitchen supply place.
No, not her, the other one.
Oh, your extravagant mane of red tresses!
Your shiny new cubical chrome crockpot!
The delicious full redness of your lovely lips!
Your vast assortment of potholders in tres moderne patterns!
Your long, flowing flowered skirts, hugging your hips just so.
Henckels, twenty percent off!
And oh, such mesmerizing decolletage...
This is a problematic crush arrangement. If she was a bookstore angel or barista vision, for example, I could enjoy a coffee or hang around the magazine rack, make witty quips about Flaubert, claim solidarity with the coffee growers of Nicaragua. It's hard to hang around a kitchen shop without (1) looking especially obvious, and (2) potentially spending a metric pisspot full of money.
"Oh, uh...hi. Yeah. Could you explain the difference between these instant-read thermometers to me, please? Yes, again. No, I wasn't sniffing your hair..."
Oh, and speaking of sexy mamas, a very happy birthday shoutout to
aries28!!
No, not her, the other one.
Oh, your extravagant mane of red tresses!
Your shiny new cubical chrome crockpot!
The delicious full redness of your lovely lips!
Your vast assortment of potholders in tres moderne patterns!
Your long, flowing flowered skirts, hugging your hips just so.
Henckels, twenty percent off!
And oh, such mesmerizing decolletage...
This is a problematic crush arrangement. If she was a bookstore angel or barista vision, for example, I could enjoy a coffee or hang around the magazine rack, make witty quips about Flaubert, claim solidarity with the coffee growers of Nicaragua. It's hard to hang around a kitchen shop without (1) looking especially obvious, and (2) potentially spending a metric pisspot full of money.
"Oh, uh...hi. Yeah. Could you explain the difference between these instant-read thermometers to me, please? Yes, again. No, I wasn't sniffing your hair..."
Oh, and speaking of sexy mamas, a very happy birthday shoutout to