Customer(s) of the Night #9123: The Good, The Dumb, and The Perplexing.

Nice Guy came back on Saturday and bought me that bottle of Shiraz. I tried to beg off, but he wasn't hearing it and so I gave in and now I have a great bottle of wine to share with my friends at Samtisch (not sure about that spelling, but it's what we call the weekly dinner gathering. German word for sandwich, I think). This week we're having Indian food, so I'm bringing Gewurztraminer and India Pale Ales, but hopefully next week we'll have Shirazable food.
Another customer asked me "Do you have mixed drinks?" I paused, confused, then asked if she meant the pre-mixed ("mall-ternatives" we call them at the LLS), bottled rum/vodka/swill beverages that are usually pink and always awful.
"No, like mixed drinks. Do you make those here?"
"Uh, that'd be a no." You know, because we're a liquor store, and not a fucking bar. WTF? Very confusing.

What was perplexing was a customer who came in very early in the morning, bought a plastic pint of our cheapest gin and a pack of our cheapest cigarettes, and them wished us good day and left. I was barely paying attention, as I was not waiting on this customer, but when the door closed behind said customer and nobody else was in the store, my co-worker Adam asked if i would please run to the back and grab him some eye bleach.
I looked up from the computer, where I had been researching a particular dessert wine.
"Hmmm?"
"Bleach. For my eyes. So that I might try to burn out that image," he said, louder this time, gesturing toward the retreating figure in the parking lot. It was unclear what the sex of this person was, but once I actually looked at him/her, he/she looked like the sort of person that I should have been able to smell from a distance. After a prolonged analysis, we decided that it was a woman, albeit a very masculine woman with a voice deep enough (probably from those cheap smokes) to confuse anyone who was not paying careful attention. Her baseball cap barely covered her bemulleted head, and I was impressed by her ability to light a cigarette with matches while walking into the wind toward the bus stop. She stuck the rest of the pack into a fannypack that rested on her right hip. This was not the only fannypack that I saw this weekend. Do I smell a comeback? If so, can we rename them so that they sound as funny to us as they sound to the British? cootersack, perhaps? Or maybe vagibag? Anyone?