Dear gas station clerk,
I see the disapproving look in your eyes when I ask for a box of Marlboro Lights. I can practically read your mind, wondering "why is she smoking? Does she not know how bad it is for her?"
Yes, I know.
I know all the facts. Know them well.
Joking around with me and saying, "no," when I ask for them isn't really funny either. It's not like I'm a giddy 18 year old excited about being above the legal age. It's not like I want to smell (or taste) like an ashtray. That's not it at all.
So, you want to what it is?
I do not know.
But, if you could just give me my purchase sans snide remarks, I would appreciate it.