Lies told to a magazine salesman ...

A mini meth head just busted up the front steps and gave me a wicked weird sales pitch that took me five minutes to understand. First he said he was in a contest to meet as many people as he could; He mentioned politics; Then it segued into something about American Idol. Finally he flipped a plastic pamphlet out of his pocket and asked me to buy a magazine subscription so he could win a trip to Cancun.

Lies I told him as he became increasingly pushy:

1. That I do not have a car. I ride the bus everywhere. I even did a fist raise when he said "Go Green!"
2. That I'm married.
3. That I'm not wearing a ring because we bought a house instead.
4. That I do not read magazines because we subscribe to a paper-free lifestyle.
5. That I was born and raised in Duluth.

Ways in which this conversation became creepy:

1. He told me he wasn't just using this as a way to "pick up girls wearing pajama pants."
2. He told me he was wearing a $300 outfit, and I told him mine was about $25, then I peeked inside my hoodie to see what shirt I was wearing and said "Oh. Wait." To which he replied "Victoria Secret?"
3. When he saw I wasn't going to buy anything, he told me I looked "radiant today, by the way."

Something I learned about myself in the process:

1. Aggressive young Camp Miller candy bar pushers, I'll buy from.
2. Weird shivering boyz of indiscernible age who don't seem to be from Duluth, and throw empty complements at a woman dressed in a hoodie that looks like a much-loved stuff toy from childhood, just say no. And fast.
3. I'm going to become a "Who knocked on the front door today" blogger instead of a cat blogger or house blogger or cheese whiz blogger.