Whilst browsing in the frozen foods section, an apparent Houston fan comes up to me.
Random Target man: “Oh hey, good job wearing that shirt. I mean, we may have lost but at least Watt was man enough to come back into the game. Your guy just, like, wussed out.”
Me: “Oh, wow, what a good burn. I’m sure that some guy at the Mesquite Target at 9pm is the leading expert on whether or not leaving the game you’re getting paid millions of dollars to play in with a knee injury after you’ve had two ACL injuries during your wildly successful NFL career is the manly choice to make. I’m sure you’re not trying to make yourself feel better about your own life that you chose to base around an inferior sports team, so he should be really and truly worried.”
Random Target man: “Well, you’re a fucking bitch.”
Me: “Wow, if you say I am, then I must be – I mean, look at me, minding my own business and buying frozen chicken – that’s a total bitch move, unlike accosting a random stranger about the shirt she’s wearing.”
<I put my chicken in my basket and walk around him…directly into the path of one of my former students, who’s holding up her left hand like paper and an invisible pen in her right.>
Student: “Dear Diary, Today I realized that Miss V could have been way meaner to us with her clap backs in class than she actually was. I’m terrified for what this means to my future.”
Me (grinning, yet continuing to walk past her): “You should be, you go to Horn.”
Student: “If my parents say it’s okay, will you adopt me?”
Lesson I learned: Wearing my JMac shirt to Target on a Saturday night after the Chiefs crush the Texans was apparently a large error in judgement.