Howdy all. It's fucking Monday again. We watch Buffy reruns in the morning while eating breakfast, which makes it torturously hard to get moving and go to work, especially on Monday. I mean, Buffy's on! It was the season two episode where Kendra shows up and is all "No, I'm the slayer!" *sob*

Hi, I'm a loser who needs to stop pretending I'm cool. But, hey, at least I'm not the kind of freak who dresses up as my favorite character and drives four states away to attend BuffyCon. Uh, yet.

Weekend? It was okay. Saturday went according to non-plan: gym, errands, shopping etc. Sunday was all about family overload and emotional overload. For some reason I just lost the plot yesterday. Sometimes the weight of my failure to find a job/make money/do something with myself is all just too much and I just go all weepy and inconsolable.

But late Sunday afternoon, Kenny saved the day by deciding we needed a long bike ride by the river. It helped clear the pity and frustration out of my brain and we both felt much better for it. Afterwards, we ate an entire pizza while watching TV. Good times.

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Worst. Line. Ever.

I had the most bizarre exchange at the drugstore Saturday, which still makes me shudder and also laugh. So insanely ridiculous. I went to pick up a prescription and the line was so long that it snaked back into one of the aisles, namely, the aisle which houses a massive selection of condoms and, ironically, pregnancy tests.

So I'm standing in line, staring off into space, when this guy walks up to the line. This guy is Smooth Operator 1982; He looks like John Oates with the early eighties mustache and everything. Officially Bad News. He slowly surveys the line, then says "Who's in town?" Which makes no sense.

Bad News '82 slimes his way behind me in line and surveys the condom selection for several minutes. I wait for it.

"Excuse me, miss?"

I cringe inwardly. "Yes?"

"Please don't be offended, but can I ask you...(gestures to massive condom display) what brand do ladies really prefer?"

Keeping my face and voice blank of any emotion, I said "I'm sorry, I cannot help you with that."

"Oh, okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."

I turned back around to face the line. I could feel him stewing, squirming, trying to figure out how to make it better or, maybe, horrifyingly, how to get an answer out of me. Five full minutes go by. I wait for it.

"Excuse me, miss?"

I sigh and turn around. "Yes?"

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to offend you at all. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm fine." I turn my back to him and pray he lets it go. Thankfully, he does.

What the hell was he thinking? For real, if you truly want to know what brand to buy, why not ask the girl you're hoping to make the purchase for? Also, in what world is it appropriate to ask a complete stranger such a personal, not to mention creepy, question? Lord above. It does totally crack me up that he obviously knew it wasn't a smooth move, but went for it anyway. Worst. Line. Ever.

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Another Reason Why I'll Probably Never Own a Home.

Besides the lack of money, that is. I have a serious issue, people. I've not even told my husband about this. I'm a street name snob. There, I said it. I'm super-picky about the name of the street I'd live on. The other night we were watching the local real estate channel (addictive) and they showed a cute house...that was on Jefferson Davis Highway. Sorry, nope. Can't live of Jefferson Davis Highway because:

a) It's way too southern. I'm sheepish and embarrassed by how popular the civil war continues to be around here.
a) it's way, way too long for a street name.
c) It's not a terribly nice place anyway.

Having an address on Jeff Davis Highway (yes, people call it that) would make me feel like a confederate-flag-waving redneck. I know it's just a street name, but that's how I feel.

Mostly though, my street name snobbery is just a matter of taste. I would not like an address on Beulah Rd, Glebe Rd, Chamberlayne Ave or Backlick Rd. It's an esthetic thing. Beulah and Glebe sounds ugly, Chamberlayne is too long and doesn't sound homey and do I even need to explain Backlick Rd*? I didn't think so.

I would be delighted to live on Augusta Ave, Grove Ave or Byrd St. Anything that's sort interesting and has a nice ring to it is fine. I like words that are nice to say out loud and also look good. I'm a word snob now? Naturally! (Words I don't like: panty, antibiotic, scintillate, referral, moist, synergy.)

I don't know what's wrong with me. Granted, this bad attitude of mine towards non-pretty street names will change right sharpish when we actually start looking for a house. Hell, it would serve me right to end up living on Seed Tick Neck Road.

*Ahem, if you have a house on Backlick Road that you'd like to give me, I'd gladly take it off your hands and say no more about the silly name.

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Educational Links.

Some useless facts about street-related things.

Submit words you made up to pseudodictionary.com.

Check out the history of the condom. Gee, I really hope my Internet history isn't tracked at work.

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