Happy Thanksgiving, Dwight Yoakam

So I went downstairs to the cafeteria a little while ago in hopes of getting some lunch.

It's not always possible for me to get lunch in our stupid-ass cafeteria, as they don't seem to believe vegetarians exist--or, perhaps they do believe in vegetarians, yet they also believe that if you don't eat meat, you are evil. And must be destroyed. And they hope that we non-meat-eaters will simply starve to death if they don't provide any vegetarian options for us.

But I digress..

So I got my salad and sidled up to the cashier's line with the fewest people in it, just behind a gargantuan women with inexplicable clown-hair.

The cashier, a thin, foreign woman (of unknown origin), who always wears her hair tightly plaited, Heidi-style, rang up Clowny's food.

Clowny, who was holding her wallet, didn't make any sort of move to remove cash from said to wallet to pay for her lunch.

Clowny looked at the cashier and said, in a low, reverent tone, "Guess who I saw last night."

Now, I'm pretty damn hungry. And getting hungrier by the minute. And I'm not the most patient person under the best of circumstances, particularly in cases of social idiocy and/or rudeness. For example:

• Jackasses who come to a dead stop while walking down the sidewalk causing the people following to body-check them from behind (Hello boobs? Are you there? No? You've been permanetly deflated? Bummer);
• The dolts who wait in line at the bank or ATM for several minutes and don't bother to get their bank card out until they actually get to the teller/bank machine;
• The dickheads who go to the movies without any forethought as to what movie they're going to see and change their mind 3 or 4 times while they're purchasing their tickets (This means you Kirstie Alley! I hope someone kicks your Jenny Craigersized ass!).

Anyway, so Clowny said, "Guess who I saw last night?" and the cashier responded, "Who?"

Clowny replied, her voice cracking and a small tear forming in the corner of her eye, "Dwight. Yoakam."

The cashier responded, "Who?"

Clowny: Dwight Yoakam!

Cashier: I'm not familiar.

(Meanwhile, I'm torn between being irritated--that these two nitwits are standing between me and my lunch--and laughing hysterically at the situation which is quickly becoming CLASSIC!)

Clowny: Two. And. A. Half. Hours.

Cashier: Huh?

Clowny: He played for TWO AND A HALF HOURS-straight!

Cashier (unimpressed): Huh.

Clowny: Oh, I just love him...I don't actually own any of his albums, but when he plays that one song..oh, what's it called?...anyway, he's always so great on Jay Leno.....

Cashier: My son, he gets me into the punkrock, the underground music. I don't know this "Yoakam".

Clowny trundles off, wishing the cashier a, "Happy Thanksgiving", with visions of Yoakam dancing in her head.

Happy Thanksgiving to you, Clowny. And Mr. Yoakam, wherever you are....