Sunday, April 20, 2008


Okay, so broken hearts really do hurt more than being stabbed with a thousand tiny shards of glass and then bathing in refreshingly ripe lemon juice.  I'm assuming.  I've never actually done all that...but my heart has been broken.  Just tonight.

A bride and groom came through my line today at work, still dressed up and all.  My first thought was that maybe they simultaneously left each other at the altar to run away with each other, but then I realized that that made no sense--they must have been done with the whole altar part all together.  And being the helpful advice-giver I am, I let them know that as nice as it may be, Target is not the best possible honeymoon destination.  They would probably more enjoy Academy Sports&Outdoors or IKEA or Barbados.  But not France.  They told me that they were on their way to their actual honeymoon location, but they had been given a gift card to Target and were just using it as a pitstop.  And that got me thinking....I want people to give me things.

At Target, we have people frequently register for gifts on the occasions of babies and marriages.  Seeing as though it would be quite difficult to impregnate myself (not to mention painful), I decided to get married.  And then I looked over to a delightful Mexican coworker and I asked her to marry me.  And I even smiled while I did it to maybe persuade her decision just a little bit.

And she said no.  Rejected.  It had been my dream for over twenty seconds...she said it was because I'm gay.  Why do people have to discriminate against me?  The world would be better if we could just all get along and marry one another for financial gain.  It's something I'll fix when I'm President.

So then I explained to her that I wanted lots of free things.  and then there's the honeymoon to an exotic location (like Barbados or Academy Sports&Outdoors)--and I was sure to let her know that she didn't even have to go if she didn't want to.  This, of course, flattered her greatly.  Then I added that we could just get divorced--nobody would think much of it.  People do it all the time.  Sometimes twice a week.  But I was sure to add that if we did get divorced, we'd have to make sure everyone knew that it was me who broke up with her face--I don't want to lose face in front of the people who'd have given me free stuff for getting married in the first place.  She still said no.

So I told her that it would even get her American citizenship.  Then she hit me.  And that kinda hurt more than being rejected.  So I suppose that rejection doesn't hurt more than being stabbed with a thousand tiny shards of glass and then bathing in refreshingly ripe lemon juice after all.

Quote of the Day:  "Would it turn you on if I threw you off the stairs?"