We’re Going to Need a Glass Pipe and a Protractor

Carlisle, Rok, Nuke, and Nuke’s boyfriend (Scrappy) were all hanging out with me in the store last night, but we could barely hear each other, on account of the music from the bar was blasting at skull-shattering levels. So when Carlisle said something about bubble bath (which made sense in context), everyone else went, “Bubble meth? The hell is bubble meth? How would you even do bubble meth?!

Well, everyone except me, because I was all, “Bubble math? The hell is bubble math? How would you even do bubble math?!”

The point here is that Rok and Nuke have terrible drug problems, whereas I will never stop being a Liberal Arts major.

Hey, want another solvent story? Of course you do.

Customer: [pointing to his straight female friend] “Do you carry butt plugs? She wants a butt plug.”

Me: “No. We do not carry butt plugs.”

Straight Female Friend: “Where could we find a butt plug?”

Me: “Well, you could try [sleazy store] or [sleazier store].”

Customer: “What about poppers? Do you sell poppers?”

Me: “We do not sell poppers, but we do sell solvents and polish removers.”

Customer: [dejected] “Oh. Okay, then.” [leaves]

Rok yelled, “SOLVENTS ARE THE SAME THING” as they walked out the door, but they didn’t hear him. I blame the music.

You know what would be funny, though? If, in a couple of months, one of them accidentally spills nail polish all over the place, and the other goes, “Quick! To the Forge!” If that happens, I’m totally going to be like, “Oh, sorry, guys. We only sell poppers.”

Meow I Lay Me Down

ProTip: If your day job involves managing gated townhome communities, and a homeowner calls freaking out because there’s a dead cat in their retention pond, so your boss contacts an animal removal services but is then all, “$400 to get rid of a dead cat?!” the correct response is NOT “Seriously? Hell, I’d do it for $200.”

Apropos of nothing, but there’s a dead cat in my trunk.

Cereal Numbers

My Mom: “I mentioned to your sister-in-law that we’re having your car detailed for Christmas, and she said, ‘Oh, we had it washed before we sent it down there.’ So I explained that you’re very proud of the car and want to take good care of it, and I pointed out that it was just driven across the country, so it was bound to get at least a little dirty during that trip.”

Me: “Yup. And that’s also how all those Cheerios ended up in the back seat.”

My Mom: “Yeah… maybe we don’t tell them about the Cheerios.”

Again, please know how grateful I am for my brother’s generosity — I’ll take a vehicle full of Cheerios over no vehicle at all any day. More than anything, I’m just relieved that he and his wife remembered to let their kids out of the car before shipping it to Houston. I love them dearly, but they are the reason why movies like Home Alone always strike me as plausible.

A Privilege Carol

Straight Girl: [across the store] “Hey.”

Me: [at the register, to the customer in front of me] “Your total is $70.35.”

Straight Girl: “HEY.”

Me: [to the customer in front of me] “Ok, you’re all set. Have a good night.” [then, to her]  “May I help you?”

Straight Girl: “So this [pointing to a union suit] is for men, and that [pointing to a leather miniskirt] is for women?”

[Inner Me: Gender-specific dress codes are outdated social constructs designed to oppress both cis women and individuals on the nonbinary spectrum.]

Me: “Yes.”

Straight Girl: “Well, why is the ladies’ stuff so revealing, while the men’s stuff covers everything?”

[Inner Me: You speak in too many italics.]

Me: “Union suits are very revealing.”

Straight Girl: [arms crossed; one brow raised confrontationally]

Me: [winning smile]

Straight Girl: [rolls eyes, flounces away]

I do appreciate the chutzpah it took to bow up in a gay bar and accuse the guy selling cock rings of objectifying women, but the fact that she did so while standing next to a display of tear-away codpieces kinda, y’know, bled the blister from her bluster.

Later in the evening, I overheard a Ripcord patron politely but firmly ask her to please stay out of the men’s room. She seemed affronted by that. I can only imagine how quickly her devastating Yelp review will shut this place down.

Waiting to Inhale

Customer: “Which of these solvents is your favorite?”

Me: “Y’know, I don’t use them myself.”

Customer: “You don’t use solvents?”

Me: “Nah.”

[beat]

Me: “I use straight-up paint thinner.”

Customer: [leaves quickly]

One of these days, I’ll finally accept that my terribly droll flavor of sarcastic wit is not to everyone’s delicate taste.

But oh, trust, I am huge in France.

Huge. Trust.

Solvent for X

Customer: “Hi, I just need a bottle of poppers.” [to his boyfriend] “Which poppers would you like?”

Me: “We actually don’t sell poppers.”

Customer: “You don’t?”

Me: “We don’t. But we do carry solvents and polish removers.”

Customer: “OH. Right.” [to his boyfriend] “Which not-poppers would you like?”

Part of me wanted to backhand him, but considering all the “Definitely Not a Raffle” ads I’ve created for Misfits fundraisers, I’ll just give him a respectable B- for effort.