I Might Have to Change My Name.

I am gay.  Doubly gay, in fact.  BAM!  Consider me out of the closet!  That wasn't hard at all!  I am now The Fat Gay Ho.

I just went on a well-deserved vacation for eight days.  Seriously, if I hadn't had that time off, I probably would've started stabbing people with sharpened pencils or broken bottles.  I'm not sure how I would've handled this weekend if it hadn't been my first three days back after that much needed rest.  It probably would've involved shanking.

Friday, my first day back, was fine.  Besides forgetting some people's points accounts, figuring out all the new items we had, and what was on sale that week, everything went smoothly despite how busy it was.  Saturday is when things got all gay.  Gayer than this picture:

That's pretty gay.

Thankfully, they stopped manufacturing Twinkies.

I am a fat ho.  Indeed.  I am possessed of the qualities necessary both for ho-ery and for being considered of an above average body mass index.  Or, at least the little blond, talking Twinkie that came in my liquor store would have you believe.

One of my biggest flaws is that I tend to assume that people will have 'common sense', an ideal that can only be described as a misnomer.  If I planned on engaging in some sort of Government-controlled, or dangerous activity, such as learning to fire a gun of some kind, I would be sure to do a little research first and find out the laws surrounding such a practice.  Am I allowed to carry a gun in my pocket, for example, or do I need to wear a certain type of thigh holster advertising my penchant for shooting small projectiles at people using tiny explosions?