Carded for air?

Tonight, I got carded at Walmart - for buying canned air. Seriously. You have to be 18 years old or older to buy canned air because huffing has made it's way into this decade. C'mon, kids, really? "Huffing?" If you're that desperate to die, there are so many other, cooler ways to die besides inhaling aerosol. I can't think of a single thing at the moment because dying isn't really cool to me.

I did learn two things about canned air: it's heavy and it costs a lot of money. Who would have thought canning the stuff you breathe as a cleaning product could be so lucrative? 3M did, that's who. As I was walking the aisles of Walmart, I couldn't help but wonder if I was not using my creativity to its full potential. There has to be another untapped element that costs nothing which I can package, patent and make a zillion dollars off of ...

But I was busy picking things up for my boyfriend and he had requested, among other things, a selection of specialty magazines. Now, I have no problem buying them, but when I can't find the specific title (and he was very specific), I started digging just in case it was buried and anyone walking by probably thought some pretty interesting things about me. Except for the old man who offered to help me look, and even offered advice on which of those particular publications to buy. When he heard I was purchasing them for my boyfriend, he was even more impressed and suggested my man must be someone special and he was lucky to have someone like me willing to supply him with ... material.

Seriously, it was ONE magazine in particular; yes, I am pretty awesome despite the days I freak out over stupid stuff; and my boyfriend is absolutely special all right. Even after I could not find what I was looking for and settled on two sporting mags instead, the old man was still showing me stuff he liked and suggested my boyfriend would like, too.

No, he was not going to like Black Booty. Not that he doesn't like women of color, but he doesn't want any men involved lest it kill the fantasy. Plus, there's a cap on how big a booty can get before it's just not sexy anymore and some of these women had buffet table asses, but surprisingly no cottage cheese. Must be genetics. Anyway, lesson learned: don't start conversations with random old dudes helping you look for ... specialty magazines.

Creeper.

It is getting harder and harder to come up with original stuff to send when you're sending a box a week, though. Especially when you know other people are sending boxes, too. You don't want to send doubles of things like magazines, canned air and chew, but you also want to make sure you're sending stuff in case it hasn't already been sent. At this point, you almost wish you could be in touch with everyone who is mailing out care packages and form a committee with a checklist so you know who is sending what.

But that would be too easy ...