Carded...

Well, kids, it's finally happened. Cosmo, my "silent" partner, has finally rigged up a laptop for me. That's right. I can correspond to my legions of, well... Possibly two of you, since I've sent out the link a few days ago, while being in my knickers. Anyone who knows me will tell you two things about my knickers:

1. They're clean, so don't worry.
2. They're really awesome. I'm a panty-buying freak.

So, last night I lost my cigarrettes in Eddie's truck. Yes, my adoring reader, your beloved Wanda smokes. I'm a bad pink fairy. Anyway, I lost them in Eddie's truck and I convinced Cosmo to stop at some gas station (Chevron) so I could replenish my stock like a good little addict.

Entering the gas station, I saw my would-be saviour. More bald than the day he was born and with only one more tooth than said birthdate, he smiled (I think) and, all Southern like, called me "Yung lahdy..."

I asked him for said fix, which he pulled out from those magcial shelves behind the counter. Then he asked me for my I.D. Now, most gurls can tell you, even at the tender age of 25, getting carded is a small victory against something. Okay, not that I think I'm looking old, but it gives me the giggles, like by being able to turn over my pretty blue I.D. card is a much bigger accomplishment than it really is.

So, anyway, I flip my massive wallet open to the clear plastic thingie that makes my I.D. safe and imposible to get at and flash him my wonderful picture (Honestly, only I.D I've ever had where I don't look too demented, tired or fat) and he says "Ontario? I ain't never seen a I.D. from Ontario." Which I get quite often down here. I mean, why would there be legions of Ontarians flashing their cards in Humble, Texas? Now, one of the last things a legally-enforced addict wants to hear is that their cards aren't valid. And this man had a whole book explaining why my card wasn't valid. And that is simply that as he hadn't ever seen one before, it couldn't possibly be valid.

Fun. And more than just a little confusing. So we went across the street to the nice little family run corner store and bought cigarettes for me and lotto tickets for Cosmo, never once flashing either of our I.D.'s.

This is the second time this has happened to me here. The first time was at a Krogers. I was buying wine, not even to drink, I mean, this was some cheap bottle of red, specifically so I could cook pasta for Cosmo's dad (He digs my pasta sauce, bless him) I got to the self-checkout counter and when I ran the wine through the machine, this 18 year old (I may be exagerating, annoying people all start to look alike to me after a while) comes running over to verify that I am, in fact, of age, and not trying to sneak a bottle of crap red out of the store on her watch. I gladly show her my license, just really wanting to be out of there, as grocery shopping is not exactly my forte.

Now, this tiny, underaged wonder takes one look at my card, and you can literally see the wheels turning as she realizes that she hasn't ever seen one of these cards... Next thing I know, she's asking me if I have Texas I.D. As if I've got it secreted away behind some other card and am just screwing with her. I point out to her that if I had State issued I.D., wouldn't I have shown it to her? She then notifies me that I'm "lucky" that she believes me, otherwise she wouldn't have to give me the wine. Her words, not mine. I asked her if I were say, from Louisiana, would she hassle me with this, too? She replied that she could, and repeated how lucky I was that she believed me and could now walk out of the store with my semi-legal bootie.

I've said it before, and I stand by it: god bless the small business owner!!