embarrassing grocery shopping story.basically, girl at check out counter picks up produce and looks at me quizzically. I say "pomidory" (tomatoes). she rolls her eyes, grabs all my produce, and has to tag them all with price tags because I'm too big of a retard to realize that the scale actually prints shit for you (it wasn't exactly labeled). she remembered that I didn't speak polish from that morning's terrible juice incident where I also looked like a moron. the line built to like ten people behind me wondering what the fuck was going on.
I'm now never going back there again. particularly because she is the only person who works there, and therefore works there every day. all day.
it was kinda worth it though. because honestly, happiness is a home cooked meal.(and so begins the happiness is... series.)
hurray for exploring tomorrow with some native polack boys! :)
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