I Don't Want No Scrubs . . .

You know how I was saying I never get hit on.

Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration.

I do get hit on quite frequently by Black men. Which, you know would be all fine and dandy if it was like TAYE DIGGS.

Oh, but now sweetie, I get hit on the Germain Dupree's of this world.

The ones that are on the corner going, "Say, say baby giiirrrl . . ."

Take for instance my latest suitor at Stupid-Mart.

I walked in to pick up a few items and I was in a pretty good mood. I was finally back in town, which meant sleeping in my own bed, and in a few days S would be up for the weekend.

I walk in and there's your Stupid-Mart employee restocking the lettuce. I walk in and grab some apples when he leans over and says to me, "Good evening! How are you tonight?"

Me, smiling "Great, thank you!"

Doo, doo, doo I'm wandering around and realize I need lettuce and he's still standing in front of it. So, I walk up behind him and start looking at expiration dates and stuff.

He goes, "Oh, oh, I'm sorry I'm in you're way . . . let me move so you can see ALL the lettuce."

Me, smirking uncomfortably, waving my little bag of lettuce, "Oh no, it's okay. I found what I was looking for."

I go to walk away and he says, "Say, you come here often?"

BWAH, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Aside from being the sorriest line I've ever heard, I'm at a grocery store!!!

Yeah, I go there often. You know, to BUY GROCERIES!

Me, "Not lately, no."

I push off and wander over to tomatoes. Where I start picking up little plastic packs of grape tomatoes and he leans into my aisle again and says, "What's wrong with those?"

I, now a bit annoyed that this weird ass won't leave me alone, pick up a pack of tomatoes and loudly ask, "What's wrong with them?!? They look fine on top but when you flip the packs over they're rotten! LOOK!"

And, one by one, I pick up each pack and show him the nasty white goo oozing out of the tomatoes.

Him, "Aw man, I'm sorry. Say, I've got some in the back if you want to come with me and pick one out."

Riiiiight!

. . . A scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me . . .