I'm spending the next four (maybe five) days in Wagga Wagga.
Slightly distressed at the thought that I was not attending my main-man-Ken-Hutchin's (who the FUCK is KEN?) Pilooski bash, once I heard parent's changed internet providers, my spirits [oddly] lifted.
Mum picked me up at the newly refurbished Wagga Wagga Airport and we both LOLed about how dramatically fake we made our re-union appear to other travelers.
We drove to Dad's shop, where I greeted him with my attitude and a small 'Welcome Home Fight'. Mum showed me her new favourite shop next door, selling 'very interesting wool'.
I noticed the patchworks the Saturday Sewing Club (name not confirmed) had been working on.
After a quick coffee, I went to Woolworths with Janine (mum). Can you believe they are trialling self-service check-outs in Wagga? COULDN'T.
When the girl at the register asked if Janine wanted a green bag, she screamed 'NOOOO!' and said we'll be happier carrying everything in our (my) arms. Realising that she had just appeared slightly senile, I LOLed as I watched my mum try to explain her response.
The woman also apologised. She told Janine that it's just to hard to not ask the customer, especially when her register automatically prompts her to do so.
Mum pointed out a sausage sizzle as we walked out Woolworths. 'You don't get that in the city, do you Nina?'.
'No Mum, I've never seen one before.'
PLEASE NOTE - I have a history of writing Wagga Wagga themed blogs. If you haven't already wiped myspace out of your twitter-fueled-www-iPhone-worlds, they are all hear and here.