I now live at the pharmacy. Yes that is right ever since I delved into the world known as motherhood I spend every waking hour working out where my local pharmacy/chemist/drugstore is and what time they are open and what time they will close. I have been known to call them up 2 minutes before closing time begging for the last bottle of baby cough medicine then bolting in my spewed upon clothes and making it just in time to watch them turn the lights off. So now my latest dilemma is the hot looking pharmacist. If presumably there is a higher god or intelligence or who knows what then surely the laugh is on me. It seems only when I have to buy something that I would rather not have to ask a hot looking male pharmacist for that I am forced to.
Today I had just such an experience and my thought was "Where in fucks name are those annoying women who always hassle the shit out of you when you are walking around looking like you don't know what you are doing".
I tell you I have travelled the world and it seems I've been into every type of drug selling booth from Sydney to Reykjavik and believe me there is always one of those women who is just aching to sell you some unnecessary vitamins. But where were they when I had to tell the hot pharmacist about my vagina?. So I sometimes wish I could revert back to my childhood because when I was a kid growing up in the suburbs of Sydney there was a chemist called Cincotta in a dainty little town called Merrylands. There was nothing you could not get at Cincotta, camera's, Donkey Kong, chocolates, dolls, flashes for your camera oh and film, remember that stuff, film, and not to mention drugs. Oh and the whole lot could be gift wrapped for free. Cincotta was open all the time and everyone and I mean everyone who lived around there remembers going to Cincotta and picking out there Birthday/Christmas presents. Of course I always chose liquid morphine. So Mr. Cincotta, the actual pharmacist, was thankfully an old man who rarely ventured from behind the counter and he left it to his swarm of "ladies" to assist customers with itchy twats.
So to the hot looking pharmacist please never walk around the counter to assist me ever again because I only end up walking out with a whole heap of shit that I really don't need to avoid telling you what I really had to purchase. Thanks..........
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