In the Temple of Love

I quite like the template I have chosen. It is fairly gothic and minimal and moody. And if anyone tries to print out my ramblings, it will use up their black ink like Billy-o. Hah!
Now that I have set up this internet web log, I suddenly can't think of anything to say.
Although.
There was this one guy in Tesco's last night. An over officious little lick-spittle who considered himself a manager. He was about five foot three and wearing a little headphone and microphone affair that was obviously designed to say, "I am really important"
So I was standing in the queue minding my business when he comes up and practically demands that I go to the ten items or less till.
I didn't really want to, as there was only one person in front of me, and they weren't buying that much stuff, but this guy made out like the future of mankind depended on me going to the ten items or less queue, so I was all like, "All right. I'll go to the ten items or less queue if it means that much to you, even though I don't really want to because there is only one person in front of me, and they're not buying that much stuff."
So I went to the ten items or less queue where there was literally a MILLION people waiting to buy ten or less items.
So by the time I got out of there it was dark. There were gangs of feral children roaming about and I began to feel fearful that I might be robbed of my pasta, cat food and modestly priced bottle of Bulgarian, at knife-point.
Luckily, I made it home unassaulted, only to be greeted by the mournful lamentations of the cat and an overwhelming inability to be bothered at this late hour, to make my world famous spaghetti Bolognese, so I just had hot dogs instead.