The emasculation of Michael

Tonight while Rachel was at work and the kids were at my mom's house, I did some errands in Peoria. Before I left Rach called to ask if I would run past Michael's, the arts and crafts store, to pick up some beads she needed to make some bracelets. I hemmed and hawed for several moments but reluctantly agreed. Before hanging up, I made sure she gave me step-by-step directions of exactly how to maneuver through the store, capture the prized items, and get out without being spotted. Tonight as I got closer to the store I could feel my masculinity slowly being stripped away. By the time I parked and walked through the front door, I'm pretty sure that I was now the proud owner of a vagina. The sign on the door that advertised "Part time floral designer needed" didn't really help the situation. I retrieved the map that I had drawn from my pocket and made my way through the maze, like a soldier trying to avoid the land mines of detached Asian doll heads and styrofoam balls the size of a small African village. I've gotta admit that Rachel's directions were spot-on and I made it to the aisle of choice without any incidents. Unfortunately, there was a woman there looking in the exact same section that I needed to be. From a distance I saw the beads that Rach described, but I didn't want to reach in front of her like a fat girl trying to grab the last ladel-full of moo goo gai pan at the Chinese buffet. So I waited my turn and acted like I was looking at other things in the aisle. Wow, what impressive do-it-yourself gingerbread houses! This just made me look even more awkward and out of place. Finally, I leaned over and said one of the gayest things to ever come out of my mouth. "Excuse me ma'am. Could I just grab two bags of those sterling silver alphabet beads please?" I'm pretty sure at that moment my menstrual cycle kicked into gear. I hightailed it to the front of the store to discover seven people in line at the only register open. I towered over everyone else in line, kind of like that video they showed during the Olympics when Kobe Bryant was swarmed with Chinese fans that were as tall as his belt buckle. I began praying that the Apostolic Christian in front of me wouldn't strike up some conversation about crocheting or the Gaithers or riding around in horse-drawn buggies. (Oh wait, I think that last one is the Amish. My apologies.) The line was moving slower than the plot of The Love Guru so I found myself drumming on the boxes of beads with my fingers while singing along in my head to Celine Dion's version of "Felize Navidad" that was playing throughout the store. (Darn you, Michael's!) The next thing I knew one of the boxes had broke open and pieces of silver were dancing on the floor like a slot machine for tiny Hobbits. Of course everyone turned to look at me and I immediately knelt down on the floor to try to pick up all 100 pieces up. My cover was blown. I was so flustered in the moment that I blurted out that lame "I guess I didn't even know my own strength" line. The lady in line behind me was trying to be helpful and pick some of the beads up but all I felt like doing at that moment was knocking her over to make myself feel better. I then heard the cashier come over the intercom and it began to turn into one of those SNL skits where the person asks for a price check on some tampons. Come to think of it I was pretty close to needing one myself. In an instant a high school aged girl was there with a broom and a dust pan to clean up my mess. Someone else brought up another box of beads and thankfully it was my turn to check out. The smiling lady behind the register joked "I'll double-bag these for you so you don't lose any more" as she handed me a 40% off coupon for my next visit. I dropped it in the parking lot.