So This Man at Target...

I've thought that crazy stuff just happened around me because I was looking for it. Sometimes, I keep my eyes wide open to funny or madness or just plain weird, so I figured the crazy didn't so much come to me as I beckoned it to come.

But I haven't been looking for it lately (and I can't really explain why that is) (though, I should think about it some), and sure enough, the whole world has been seeming perfectly sane and... dull.

Which is why the man at Target speaking very.loudly to multiple red-shirted helpers almost didn't catch my attention at all. I was deep in the snack aisle trying to find something both palatable and non-crappy for the Three Short Drunk People. I was also mentally three aisles ahead: the last of the school supplies loomed.

It was "jelly" that I heard first, mostly because I just enjoy that word: it's cute. But when he announced, "No, not the jelly you eat on your toast, but the kind you use for sexual pleasure," that last bit sounding more like "for sehhkzhual pleahzuhrrrrr," I knew I was in for some crazy or funny or both.

Overwhelmed by contact-embarrassment, I grabbed two boxes of fruit leathers (good!) and a crate of Hostess Cupcakes (better!) and tore out around the corner for a look see.

Nothing. No one.

Depressed, I grabbed a couple sacks of Chex Mix for good measure, then I wandered toward the cleaning aisle, mostly to make myself feel better in the domestically-skilled department. I was saving the dreaded school supplies for last.

"Thing is," he said, possibly through a bullhorn, "I just can't find the stuff, and yeah, you're a man, so you know..."

Mark in my ears (you can't forget a voice like that), I sprinted back to the gift card section and loitered there, inconspicuously of course, hoping for some visual contact.

Bingo!

He was large. His tee-shirt was stained. His jeans were held up by what I think was a bungee cord. He was cheerful, but not in the bowl full of jelly kind of way. In the "get me the KY" kind of way. He was unabashedly happy, without any insecurity, and as he squeaked away in his black orthopedic sneakers, I almost wanted to high-five him.

Today, the weird showed up all on its own. And for some reason, it makes me feel wildly better about everything. Thank you, KY guy. Carry on, dude.