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Whatever the cost I will not floss
May. 9th, 2007 04:31 pmI woke up at 6:15 today and went for a run at 6:45. Starting your day that early, it throws off the sense of time, and I can't believe it's only Wednesday, it seems like it should be Thursday.
This morning after driving DYA to work, I stopped by Jiffy Lube on the way home to get various car needs met. It was empty when I rolled up and I had the waiting room to myself at first. Then a guy came in, wearing cargo shorts and a baseball cap and a t-shirt that said "Wrigley Field: Home of the World's Largest Gay Bar" (in the shape of the Wrigley Field marquee). I glanced at it, and glanced at him, and sorta smiled, trying to figure it out. He looked kinda gay. The shirt wasn't exactly handmade, but it didn't seem like a high quality screening either. There was smaller text under the sign I couldn't read, and I thought it was some souvenir of an outing -- I don't know, a homo softball team going to see the Cubs or something. I sat in the waiting room, looking rather jockish myself (I hadn't changed clothes from the run yet), and moved on to some other train of thought to entertain myself.
Then the guy calls his cell phone company, trying to get a new phone turned on, so he's on one call and then he makes another call to test the second phone and he says, "hold on, I'm going to call my wife." And I get all confused. Wait, wife? Is this cause he doesn't want to out himself to the phone operator? What?
I look at him again, and realize his cap is a White Sox hat. Then I realize his t-shirt is actually a big homophobic joke against the Cubs. Oh. Oh, yeah, now I get it, all Cubs fans are faggots. Oh. I felt slightly embarassed at how slow I was to figure out that I was being insulted. But then I felt sort of like, you know? That t-shirt is just ridiculously unfunny. I kept wanting to say something to him, but it was 8 am, my coffee hadn't kicked in, I couldn't really put anything pithy together. I thought about saying, 'excuse me, but I'm gay and your shirt doesn't make any sense to me. Could you please explain?'
But then the nerdy teenage mechanic said my car was ready, so I left.
This morning after driving DYA to work, I stopped by Jiffy Lube on the way home to get various car needs met. It was empty when I rolled up and I had the waiting room to myself at first. Then a guy came in, wearing cargo shorts and a baseball cap and a t-shirt that said "Wrigley Field: Home of the World's Largest Gay Bar" (in the shape of the Wrigley Field marquee). I glanced at it, and glanced at him, and sorta smiled, trying to figure it out. He looked kinda gay. The shirt wasn't exactly handmade, but it didn't seem like a high quality screening either. There was smaller text under the sign I couldn't read, and I thought it was some souvenir of an outing -- I don't know, a homo softball team going to see the Cubs or something. I sat in the waiting room, looking rather jockish myself (I hadn't changed clothes from the run yet), and moved on to some other train of thought to entertain myself.
Then the guy calls his cell phone company, trying to get a new phone turned on, so he's on one call and then he makes another call to test the second phone and he says, "hold on, I'm going to call my wife." And I get all confused. Wait, wife? Is this cause he doesn't want to out himself to the phone operator? What?
I look at him again, and realize his cap is a White Sox hat. Then I realize his t-shirt is actually a big homophobic joke against the Cubs. Oh. Oh, yeah, now I get it, all Cubs fans are faggots. Oh. I felt slightly embarassed at how slow I was to figure out that I was being insulted. But then I felt sort of like, you know? That t-shirt is just ridiculously unfunny. I kept wanting to say something to him, but it was 8 am, my coffee hadn't kicked in, I couldn't really put anything pithy together. I thought about saying, 'excuse me, but I'm gay and your shirt doesn't make any sense to me. Could you please explain?'
But then the nerdy teenage mechanic said my car was ready, so I left.
