Gayboy

I got the pleasure of hearing a story from M’s day at Starbucks. Lucky me, and lucky you!

Apparently, a homeless man came in and stole a chocolate bar, then told her to give him all the money in the register in a semi-joking way, and finally, he went out and punched a customer directly in the face. If things had gone slightly differently, M could have been the one punched in the face. Ah, but that’s the way life goes.

Anyway, this story prompted a discussion between us about the amount of people who use the Starbucks washroom in order to do drugs. She said that they have the phone number of a company that will come and pick up the needles if the employees don’t feel comfortable doing so. I say, “Well, obviously you don’t want to pick them up with your bare hands.”

M remarks, “Yeah! Gayboy did that once and I got so mad at him!” (Ok, she called him his real name.)

Of course, I heartlessly respond, “Yeah but he’s probably already got AIDS so he’s fearless!”

To which she scolds me, “You shouldn’t talk about my future husband that way!”

“Um, M. He’s gay.”

“Yeah, but I can turn him straight!”

Wow. I think she is actually in love with him and now she is just tortured by the fact that the dude likes dudes. The girl can’t even turn straight guys straight, I don’t know how she thinks she is going to manage this one.

Oh, and yes, I know my comment was offensive. That’s how I roll. If I can’t see the line from here, I’m pretty sure that means there isn’t one.