Hot Damn.

Earlier today I went out to run an errand for Coffee. On the way, I stopped at the drug store to buy some lube – cherry flavoured, because I am growing tired of the scent of pina colada in my nether regions – and remembered that I wanted to pick up some mints to keep in my car.

I then remembered that I had almost used up the last of the wipes in the bathroom (and, on that note, I don’t understand why the more people don’t use the wet “personal wipes” along with their dry, scratch toilet paper). I grabbed a refill pack.

As I walked toward the cash register, and past the end-cap display of batteries, I noted with glee that they had some “N” batteries available. They’re very hard to find, other than online, and they’re required for my RO-80 vibrator, for which one never wants to run out of power because one never knows when one will require its services.

In other words, I basically carried a bunch of items to the cash register that, combined, could lead one to think I was about to have an AWESOME afternoon. Lube, batteries, personal wipes, breath mints..

Sadly, they don’t carry porn. I’d have felt obligated to pick some up.

(On the subject of sex, did you read this article? Awesome. My friend Robyn shared it via her Google Reader.)