PlazaJen: Passion Knit

Today, I almost threw my FagHag badge of honor out the window. I was behind three 'family' men in line at Costco, and I will acknowledge upfront that I was operating under the influence of no food, or virtually no food, because there were not many grazing opportunities in the aisles of Costco today & I only had a sliver of grilled chicken breast & a small paper cup of "rice bowl". Given that it's been unseasonably warm, no large building structure has figured out that when it is 60 degrees outside, having the heat on high is no longer necessary, no matter what the calendar says. So it was boiling hot, and Gay Man #3 had committed the first atrocity, not putting the divider bar on the belt. It would be the first of many he and his trio would commit.
GM #1 apparently was the only cardholder of the bunch. So that meant three transactions with the card being handed back and forth as Edmonika tried to keep everything straight. PUN INTENDED. (Also, I am not kidding, that was her name, on my receipt. I wondered as I left, did her parents combine their names? Is it a family name? What the hell?) At this point, I am pissed that I picked this line. And starting to get the shakes, while getting a little sweaty, which makes me feel sub-pretty, and not just a little pukey. So I want these fruitcakes to hurry it the F up, and I'm giving them all sorts of leeway, because I love my gay men, and 90% of the time the connection is instant. Not so today! They are buying TONS of wine, which means overriding the age/date of birth crap every time. And they have three huge jugs of vegetable oil. Wine & vegetable oil. Huh. Midnight tomorrow night was going to be VERY interesting, wherever this trio was. I was envisioning things I should never, ever imagine. Oh! And a bottle of Baileys, that never made it out of the cart. Whups! That's GM #1's bottle of Baileys, we'll need to do a fourth transaction real quick like. GM #3 could not figure out how to work the card swiper. Dude. It's a flick of the wrist, and please, do not, do NOT make me have to show you how. You are standing between me and a dollar-fifty hot dog plus drink, I am sweaty, I have low blood sugar, and I feel dangerously close to morphing into the elderly lady who works at Hobby Lobby when she gets close to lunch break and starts barking about her diabetes and low blood sugar and how she HAS GOT TO EAT RIGHT NOW. So in a post-Christmas fashion, I dedicate a little song to you, for driving me insane for 15 minutes at a low blood sugar moment in my life.

Ye three queens, disoriented are.
Buying wine, you'll haul to your car.
Yield your cash card, you should be barred,
My afternoon you'll mar.

O men who blunder, shoes so light,
Can't get a transaction right,
Still not speeding, still not breeding,
You're still the ones in whom I delight.