The King of Queens

I had to work Saturday night at teh Target (it is currently about 12:30 AM Sunday morning). The usual insanity occurred throughout the evening (apparently I have to be VERY careful about what I say as far as what happens in the store. I got a bulletin about it and everything!). It was after the store closed that the fun began. It started when one of the approximately 200 Ericas that work at the store asked me if anyone ever told me that I look like someone on television. I told her that I have gotten a few comparisons to actors over the years, some I liked better than others. I asked her who I reminded her of, but she kept asking me who I had previously been compared to. Well, after about 2 minutes, my interest in the conversation waned enough that I moved on to other things. This displeased her, as she really wanted to tell me who she thought I looked like. So she came over to me and told me that I remind her of Doug Heffernin (I have no idea if that is how the character's name is spelled. She could not remember the actor's name). In case you (like myself) have no idea who that is, it is the character that Kevin James plays on the King of Queens (right now you are thinking that you now know the reason for this entry's title. If it was that obvious, would I have Fear and Loathing cats up there? Of course not. Keep reading...). I suppose that I could have had a worse comparison. Unless it is because she thinks I have a toupee (or did I just say too much?), in which case I am offended. Of all my many physical imperfections (and if you want the full list, just wait until I piss off Wifey and take her out for a few drinks. I hope you have a few hours to kill, because once she gets started on the list, you will be there for a while), going bald is not currently one of them. But I am sure it won't be long.

Side note, I know that I am growing old, and I know that when men grow older the start to get hair in all sorts of inconvenient places. I can deal with the occasional ear hair and the longer nose hairs. Both are easily pluckable. Is pluckable a word? Damn if it ain't now! The hair that I am having a problem with is the old man eyebrow hair. I keep noticing these long ass hairs in my eyebrows, and they are stubborn bastards. They are inherently not easy to pluck, especially if you are trying to avoid plucking the normal length hairs. And since I have no idea to look like a pale Whoopi Goldberg from the eyeballs to the beginning of my thick and luscious hairline, I have to be VERY careful with those tweezers. Anyone who has any ideas on how to rectify this, please let me know as soon as possible.

Okay, back to Target last night. Something you might not be aware of in regards to Target, they are very accepting of gays and lesbians there. I believe they even offer health benefits to "partners", and I am pretty sure that you can give your partner a discount card, which is only for immediate family. Personally I think that is pretty cool. Whatever one's personal beliefs are, I do not think that they should influence business. Well, at my particular Target, there is a fairly large gay/lesbian contingent. I don't know if contingent is the right word, but it will have to do. Well, after we closed, we were all walking about and doing our respective closing tasks, and someone called for a team member named Shan'te (a female, in case you are unsure). Shan'te shouted out "Who wants Shan'te?" Well Shan'te is one of the more popular team members, she is fun to work with and also quite cute. And so a couple of the guys (not me honey, some of those other lecherous bastards) shouted that they, in fact, wanted her. All in good fun, and everybody was having a good laugh over it. One of the shouters was Harry, a good kid if not more than a little naive (I don't know how to put the little mark thing over the word, so if it reads "nave", I can't help that). I told Harry that his wanting her didn't count since he wanted everybody in the store, including me. That also got a good laugh, including from Harry. Then I told Harry not to feel bad because I wanted him too. Again, a good laugh. and THAT is when the fun began...

As I continued my walk/inspection, a male team member (I will avoid using his name, as I do not think he has come out, although it is pretty much common knowledge at least in the store) came up to me and said to me that he thought that I was married, to a woman. I told him I was. He then became confused since I just hit on Harry, and asked if maybe I was bisexual. I told him nope, except for that one night in college, but college doesn't count (another joke, even though at this point I should have realized that humor interpretation was not a strength of his). He put his hand on my shoulder and asked me if I really thought that the one time in college was enough. Well, I might not be the smartest man in town (if you ask Wifey there are about 200 women in the greater Baltimore area alone that would welcome a dalliance with me. If you ask me I want to know where the hell they were before I started dating her. I of course see none of these obvious signs that these women are apparently projecting whenever I get in range of them. But anyway...), but I knew right then and there that I was being offered more than a buddy to watch the game with. I politely told him that I was in fact truly committed to Wifey, and if she ever leaves me, then after the requisite grieving period I will go out and find another ovaried companion, but that I appreciated the offer (honestly, I had no idea what the hell to say to him, so what I really said was "ummm...no...I'm good. Thanks anyway", then moved on to complete my task).

So, yes. At least for one day, I am truly the King of Queens. Huzzah!

Now I need to go to bed. Work tomorrow morning and then the big Sopranos series finale tomorrow night Larry the Upstairs Neighbor and I are doing a big pot of spaghetti with homemade meatballs and sauce, and some cheesy garlic bread. YUMMERS!

BSR

post script - I just ran Blogger's spellcheck, and apparently "pluckable" is NOT a word. So now you know.