It's important to mention I was with two gay men, because shopping with them was a lot like shopping with the head cheerleaders - not that I ever did that. If there was a social ladder in high school, then I, along with the guy who publicly picked his nose, was the one holding the bottom of it so everyone else could position themselves on their respective rungs. But I'm not bitter or anything. 

Anyway, the point is that gay men in a group have magical powers of persuasion I can only imagine cheerleaders have when they take the less cool girl out to shop. They can make you buy amazing things you'd probably never buy alone, like a sequins skirt or hair extensions - or a singing lobster.

The Lobster was just sitting there on the table, looking super ugly. I'm actually pretty grossed out by seafood as a general rule. Anything with claws and little black eyes should never go in my mouth, or sit on a table in a thrift store. But it had a big red button and I like big red buttons (I'm banned from most missile silos). So I pressed it, and it did this:

I pressed it again and it played a different song. It only plays two which is kind of cheap, but moving its disgusting claws and flapping its grotesque little tail around was actually kind of... endearing.

"Maybe I should get this for Geekster..." I thought aloud.

"He would love that!" said my friend. 

"I don't know..." I waffled.

And then his friend, who suddenly appeared from behind a rack of clothing, heartily agreed. Looking back, this happenstance meeting probably wasn't so happenstance. I think my friend lit up the gay equivalent of the bat signal, alerting anyone nearby that he needed some help encouraging me to take this lobster home. And with a nod from two hilarious, well-dressed men, I brought that lobster home with a big grin on my face.

The crazy right-wingers keep talking about "The Gay Agenda" like it's some big scary thing that's going to tear apart the fabric of society. I never bought into that; I always thought they just wanted to live life with equal rights and without prejudice (how dare they?). But now I'm starting to think the agenda is to get straight people to buy secondhand singing seafood, which, despite the lovely aliteration, could actually destroy straight marriages everywhere. Observe:

I kept the lobster hidden for about three weeks. I was going to wait until Christmas to give it to Geekster. But then he started building a new office/music studio in the basement and I couldn't help myself. I excitedly brought the box down when he was putting up drywall.

"I got you somethiiiiing!" I squealed melodically. (Don't think you can squeal melodically? Ask me to demonstrate sometime and I'll prove it to you.)

Geekster turned to see the lobster in my hands. "You didn't," he said flatly.

"It sings!" I squealed again, unable to contain my excitement. I pressed the button.

The look on my husband's face was more of an "I am witnessing something truly horrific" shock than a "this is the best gift you've ever given me, my beautiful wife, and that really say something because you've given me so many wonderful things" shock.

"... It's for your new studio?" I attempted.

"You spent money on this?"

"Geekster, it's a singing lobster. I could have spent $50 and it would have been a bargain. But I paid $7.99 at the thrift store - not that I should be telling you that because it's a gift. An amazing gift."

"It's pretty special, that's for sure," he replied, sounding quite unsure.

I suddenly felt very defensive of my disgusting little friend. "Fine. I'll keep him in my office when you move out. His name will be Fred and he'll be my coworker. I'll put a desk where your desk used to be and give him his own little coffee cup and a phone extension."

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah. And I'll bounce all my ideas off of him, and we'll have our own little inside jokes that we'll talk about in the staff lunch room that you will not be privy to because you shunned him. There will also be a strict anti-seafood-bullying policy that Fred and I will expect you to adhere to when you come visit us."

"No. I'm going to name him Zoidberg, and he's going to stay with me."

I glared at him and put the lobster back down."Ok, fine. But I get visitation rights."

And that is how Geekster learned to love a lobster. I mean, not in a creepy way, but in a way that two gay men and I love a lobster. 

Ok, no. Shit, no. 

I need more coffee.