a gaggle of cock rings and a pornographic kitchen

A young man, smelling of marijuana, wearing florescent flower clips in his hair approached me while at the register:

Young man: Do you have a calculator you can type on?
Me: Sure.
Young man: Okay. 35,000 x 500.
Me: Okay.
Young man: Now multiply that by 21, 000 and add 60.
Me: Okay.
Young man: That's how many sparkles you have in the store.
Me: (long pause) I assume that to be an accurate number, sir.

I had one of the most enjoyable nights approximately two or three nights ago. I think I may be getting the hang of this whole socializing thing. Perhaps I have surpassed "socially inept" and have entered the world of being "Charmingly quirky." I realized I don't need alcohol to be successful in meeting new people and starting conversations. People aren't as presumptuous as I thought. I might not be such a lost cause after all.

The days that have followed that evening have been draining.
I'm at the end of my metaphorical rope.

It's funny when you see someone briefly and feelings you once had return as if they never left you. It's also funny when people question your feelings and you haven't an answer, just an uncontrollable smile.

I have to finish my drawing and write another sentence or two.