Claymation

The horror of all horrors, today I was mistaken for a crazed Clay Aiken fan.

While attempting to buy my dad the new Brett Favre book at Borders, I was stopped en route by a Border's employee who's body ironically enough was so large and similar to a that of a linebacker that she was literally blocking the whole aisle of the sports section. Apparently, the book I was looking for was right next to where Clay Aiken happened to be sitting signing his new "praise Jesus/I am a virgin, but not gay you guys/I can't believe my fans are called Claymates" book. When I tried to explain that the book I needed was right next to Clay, I was given the dirtiest look by the monster woman who, I swear, muttered "Yea right" under her breath.

I don't know what is more disturbing the fact that this lady thought I was trying to cut in front of the line of 500 insane teeny-boppers and their soccer moms waiting eagerly to meet Clay or the fact that there were 500 insane teeny-boppers with soccer moms in tow ditching school just to meet the albino crooner who resembles Howdie Doodie.