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Queer Eye For The Straight Knife

This is an old, but true story I wrote YEARS ago. Obviously, things have changed since then.

It’s Saturday night, winter time and me and Uncle Dan have nothing to do. We decide we are going to make a special trip out to the Bellevue Square Mall like a couple of giddy-school girls to do some shopping for shit we really don’t need.

Something you should know about Bellevue; say it like you would “Belvedere” and you’ll get an idea of its social class.

When we get there, Uncle Dan wants to go look at some CD’s at the music store (CD is short for Compact Disc -we had them in the 80's for any of you kids reading this).

Quickly, we get bored and start to walk towards the food court to grab a bite to eat. On the way, we pass that cutlery store called Excalibur. We are both attracted to sharp and shiny things and not necessarily in that order; so of course we go in.

Inside I see a really cool boot knife that stands out like a camel toe on a female horse jockey. However we are having a difficult time trying to figure out what type or brand it is since there’s no visible markings on it. Out of nowhere, a very well dressed guy (I say well dressed, but he was wearing a turtle neck. Like Mitch Hedberg says: add a backpack and it'll feel like a really weak midget is choking you and trying to bring ya down) walks up next to us and starts yapping about the knife. “That’s a Ka-bar” he says. After that all I heard him say was “blah, blah, some stuff, blah, blah, some other stuff, Blah, blah and oh yea, what are you boys doing tonight?” At that moment I heard the screeching halt of Uncle Dan’s gears in that noggin of his. I was caught off guard. Then the guy continues to jabber on…

You see, the whole time I was listening to this guy talk about knives it never occurred to me that he plays for the Yankees. But Uncle Dan, he knew that right away and started to distance himself. It was at that moment the guy asked for my phone number. Me being an ass, I give him parts of my real name and number but fuck up a few letters and digits. I can sense Uncle Dan is furious with me for even handing out letters or digits even close to my own. The guy then proceeds to invite both of us to a giant orgy at his house (I’m not kidding, ask Uncle Dan) before the discussion is cut short and I’m dragged out of the store by my brother.

Uncle Dan looks at me and says “Dude… WTF? You gave him your name and number!?” I say “No, I fucked up a few digits, no big deal.” He then takes me aside and looks at me with all intensity and says: “It’s those fucking glasses you wear! You need to ditch those glasses because they make you look like a little alter boy!”

Needless to say, Uncle Dan has never returned to the Bell-Square Mall with me since.

Happy Holidays!

Cheers,

FANS TO SEAHAWKS FRANCHISE:

Jones and Tatupu, you are missed :(