How to avoid doing your math homework.

I'd like to live here. Have to study math now --> get great grades --> become awesome lawyer --> win Nobel peace prize --> retire and live in NYC. Only... I want to live there now. I mean... I'm practically living the life of Carrie Bradshaw already, why can't God, Faith or Kizmet just stick me in a nice little loft on the Upper East Side? (I don't really know what that means but I'm pretty sure it's a fancy part of Manhattan. As if there are any non-fancy parts, pfft) Now, I don't mean to be stereotypical - not all girls want to be Carrie Bradshaw. Or wait...

We do.

Anyway, I'm seriously hitting the book (800 pages, so it's gonna hurt) in just a sec, let me just tell you about the latest escapade in the wonderful series of Natalie's Occasional Moments of Glory Re: Men.

The story starts with me looking damn good today. Yes, I don't know why, but I did. I felt it as I carefully applied a layer of my Maybelline mascara this morning, and as I gently brushed my cheeks with my Body Shop bronzing blusher. Uh, yeah, anyway. In school I got hold of a picture taken when I was in London with the English class, and I didn't look that bad. Okay, so my face is a little messed up, but still, I'm kind of cute.

See the un-fuglyness? Note my pink Chucks and the IB sweater. Back row: Yours Sincerely, Adam. Front row: Anna, Sarah, Joey, Sophie.

So, anyway. On the bus home I was looking at myself in the window and thinking, "Dang, girl. You are one hot tamale!" (Actual thought.) This added further to my feeling of self-hotness. When mom asked me to go to the supermarket, I happily agreed, since grocery shopping > sine & cosine curves.

There's a kind of hot guy working at our supermarket. I used to see him a lot this summer, when my parents were in Poland. I'd go there at least once a day to buy ice cream, which I would later eat in front of Beloved Sean and MSN. Lame? No! The ice cream-buying paid off! Today! Well, I guess you know where the story's going. Hot Guy, who looks like a mix between Kurt Cobain and a bulimic cocker spaniel (not bad for a guy who works at the grocery store) was indeed working tonight, and just as it was my turn to check out, his shift began at the cashier. When he came up to the lady who was sitting by the cashier while I was in the line, I didn't think much about it. I'm guessing something along the lines of, "Oh, Hot Guy is working. Look at that." However, when he reached into a paper bag that said "Karamell Kungen" by the lady's right elbow and extracted a piece of red and black wine gum, my eyes became filled with desire.

I followed his hand to his mouth, dreaming of the sweet and sour taste of carbohydrates. "Oh, wine gum", I sighed (very quietly). Apparently, Hot Guy must have thought I sighed "Oh, Hot Guy", because he looked me in the eyes and smiled. I smiled back, a little startled, but yet happy at the thought of carbohydrates. Hot Guy must have also thought that the desire in my eyes was meant for him (silly man), because he was awful friendly.

Hot Guy: I love my job sometimes. *Smile*
Me: *Slightly confused, yet carb-smiling*
Lady: Yes, but some days feel kind of hopeless, huh? I mean you wake up and…
Hot Guy: *Interrupts* I especially like to sit here.
Me: *Very confused, tiny, carb-related smile*
Lady: *Also very confused* Oh, you do?
Hot Guy: *Supersmile* Yes, I always get the cute customers…
Me: *Giggle*
Lady: *Giggle*
Hot Guy: Harr harr. *sits down on chair* I bet that guy before you thought I meant he wasn’t cute. He was, but you’re cuter.
Me: *Giggle*
Hot Guy: *Checks out my 3 cartons of milk and 1 bag of cat food* That’ll be 350 bucks, thank you.
Me: *shocked face, looks at the little display that says 45,50 kr*
Hot Guy: I was just kidding.
Me: Oh. *Hands over money*
Hot Guy: There ya go *gives me receit* Have a Nice Evening! (I swear, he said it with capital letters.)
Me: Yes. You. Too. Nice. Evening. Thanks. *packs groceries into plastic bag, exits supermarket giggling and dying on the inside due to own lack of humor*

*Giggle*