Getting checked out. A lot.
'Wheeee!' I think. 'I'm hot!'
So hot, in fact, that the cashier can't seem to properly ring up my order for staring so hard. Bagger? Also staring. She's a bag-*girl*, but that's okay, because after four months of relative isolation from other human beings, I am not picky about where compliments might come from.
A source of shame to the liberated sector of my gender, I bat my eyes and smile.
And get no response.
'Hmm,' I worry. 'Have I overshot my hotness? Am I rendering them unable to make eye contact?'
Wait, that's not leering. That's staring. And... reading.
"So, what, is that a mad lib?" the bag-girl asks, pointing.
Way To Be Hot #16: Wear T-shirts with lots of small print across the chest.