Spreading the Joy

I starred in my own little episode of Sex and the City this afternoon. No, I didn't sit around a posh restaurant discussing the intricacies of my vagina with my bestest gir'friends. No, I didn't put my hair up in a ponytail and type frivolously away on my laptop about my latest bed buddy for my column about sex. No, I didn't divine the Zen of Life from a typo on a box of birth control pills. Was there an episode about that? No? Well, there should have been.

I did, however, go coat and shoe shopping!

My trusty old fleece just ain't cuttin' it no mo'. Actually it's the wind that cuts it, right through it, and that makes for one cold honky in the mornings, especially here in the City of Wind. After considerable mirror-gazing in different colors and styles I just couldn't pull the trigger. I came close on one particular coat. It was robust and not too tight around the shoulders but it was a bit short. If I can find it in a tall on the net I might go ahead and get it.

Then the shoe section beckoned and I wound up selecting a pair of New Balance sneakers. That's right, I call them "sneakers" and I'm not going to change no matter how much you assholes laugh at me on our way to paintball.

At the checkout counter awaited two checkout counter girls. As I walked up I heard the one say to the other, laughingly, "Thanks a lot. You just ruined my dreams."

"You don't need dreams," I told her. They laughed. "Dreams are overrated."

More laughter. "Boy, you just spread sunshine and joy wherever you go, don't ya?" said the one whose dreams had been ruined.

Joking ensued about how she would still be working there when she is seventy years old. All three of us chimed in on the subject with humorous chimings. Somewhere during all that I spent eighty bucks. It was a rather pleasant transaction, compared to most. I mean, what more pleasantness could strangers find than light-hearted banter about giving up hope and failing to find fulfillment?

I left the store feeling good about my little shopping spree. The early November air went straight through my inadequate coat but I didn't notice. That girl was right on. Her sarcasm was both warranted and accurate. Nobody wants to hear a guy say dreams are overrated, even if he's kidding.

Well, off to work on my sex column. This week's subject: The Zen of Life from a typo on a box of condoms.

These sneakers sure are comfy. They make me feel new and balanced.