On Friday, I scooted into my local pet store for some food for George Hamilton. We go in every so often to get toys for the cat and on the odd occasion shuck out a couple hundred dollars for a cat condo. Our shopping experience there is always made better by being served by my favorite clerk. The guy has two major attributes that I find really hot in a man: he’s a red-head (1) who always has a tuft of hair sexily (is that a word?) sticking out of his collar somewhere (2). Oh, he has a lot more attributes I find sexy, like his smile and manner, but I won’t bore you.

I’m wearing my deconstructed Millennium Falcon shirt, an “arty” (rough lined), one colour line print of the Star Wars ship as seen from above. It takes a non-fan a couple seconds to get it. Anyway, I was in a rush and they were out of the food we needed so I grabbed a small can to tide us over. It was a fast transaction. Cat food, money, smiles, bye!

The next day I go back with Sharkboy to get a proper bag of food and kitty litter. This day, I’m wearing my “Red Leader” helmet t-shirt: a line drawing of the helmet the rebels wore in the first (fourth) movie. I wasn’t trying to go for a theme or anything, my t-shirt wearing is usually more random than that. Red Otter is there again.

“Are you a fan of Star Wars?” he asks while we’re paying.

“I liked the movies, yeah!”

“That’s weird! That’s like the second Star Wars t-shirt I’ve seen in a day!”

“That was me, yesterday,” I say, a tad bit hurt he didn’t remember me.

His eyes go round and his mouth drops. He’s put his foot in it. Granted the guy is in a busy store but dang, am I that forgettable?

Regardless, we all laugh. Two of us out of embarrassment.