We've been waiting for an email from Comrade's Aunt Wendy about a couple of night stands she might want to give to us. A few minutes ago, Comrade said "Oh, her email got caught in my spam folder. Oh. This is Not From Aunt Wendy."

***************************************

From: Wendy <dymeev.83@crocodisc.com>
Date: November 1, 2020 at 7:45:57 PM EST
To: "Comrade" <Comrade@hotmail.com>
Subject: You're not leaving here until I suck your dick.
I am Ksenia. Everything I really need – it is to bring an end to this dull solitude, I need unique feelings: I can't be alone further. At the moment, I went through a range of a problem days, and I need a assist. I can give you anything you want: my delightful new tits, my impressive body figure, and many other things! Discover this inside my profile. I am willing to lick you!

*************************************

My reply: So I guess we're only getting a One Night Stand?

It's been incredibly hot in the apartment (no AC, just a bunch of fans of various sizes), and today Comrade and I were both feeling particularly lazy. Like most people, when we get hot and lazy, our vocabularies dwindle, andwe communicate through vague nouns and random hand gestures.

He was working at his desk making a Pokerarium while I was confirming that just because I really enjoy most of Jonathan Hickman's Image work doesn't mean his Avengers run wasn't a tedious drizzle of continuity porn disguised as an interesting event comic.

One of the giant fans was pointed at him and his desk. The other was pointed at me on the bed.
Comrade got up and headed over to the bed, so we could watch the last Capaldi episode of Doctor Who on my continuity ("Twice Upon A Time" doesn't exist, after it aired it was eliminated from the time line so no one would ever have to suffer through it again).

Comrade: "S'hot."

Me: "Oh yea. Hot."

He goes to lay down. I point at the fan. "Uhhhh. Hot?"

He squints at me.

"Hot." I say. Point at the fan, and then make a twirling gesture.

Comrade turns around and begins to shimmy as some form of erotic dance. After about ten seconds, he smiles and begins to lay down.

"That was great." I say. "But could you turn the fan around so we don't get too hot while we watch the show?"

He turns the fan around "I. Am. Mortified." 

"And hot." I offer.

​"Mortified."

Today's typo for the ... long stretch of time ... I got an Ebay message that said "Tit will be for Spawn booms."

I had to stare at it for about thirty seconds to realize that they were trying to communicate that they'd sent me money and "It will be for Spawn books." which is a totally logical and accurate statement.

​But I'm thinking of ending all conversations now with "Tit will be for Spawn booms. McFarlane be with you."

​If you were wondering what sort of people were out and about and going into stores today, Yes. Those People.

One Of Those People: "I didn't know you opened a store down here."

Me: "Oh, we're our own store. Did you visit our old location down the street? We moved here a year ago."

OoTP: "I go to your Harrison's store."

Me: "Oh, that's not us. That's another store. Harrison's."

OoTP: "Do you have plastic?"

Me: "Plastic bags? Plastic action figures?"

OoTP: "The medium ones."

Me: "Medium plastic bags?"

OoTP: "I'll know them if I see them."

I lead them over to the different sized bags we have.

Me: "These fit regular comic books. These fit some of the older comics, and these here will fit magazines. Are any of these what you're looking for?"

OoTP: "I need the ones that will fit my nieces and nephews' drawings. I can't tack them to the wall anymore. I'm all out of thumbtacks. And wall."

Me: "Ah."

OoTP: "I just moved into a new place because they wouldn't let me stay in the last one because of the holes in the wall. And now, POOF. POOF! No more walls."

Me: "Oh, of course. About how big are they?"

They move their hands as wide as they go.

Me: "Oh. I don't have any bags THAT big.

OoTP: "That's ok. I just wanted to show them to you. I ordered mine from your other store. You guys have too many" they wave their hands "comics and things. Not enough bags."

Me: "Ah. Ok."

OoTP: "I'm not trying to be mean. I like your store. It looks nice. You should close it down before the looters come."

Me: "Of course. You always want to shut down before the looters show up."

OoTP: "Do you know how long your other store takes to get my bags?"

Me: "Um. How long ago did you order them?"

OoTP: "A week ago."

Me: "I'd give it two more weeks. Unless they call you."

OoTP: "What about the looters?"

Me: "You're right. You should stop in today, just in case they came in."

OoTP: "That's a good idea. Thank you. Have a good day."

Me: "Yeup. You, too."

They left without buying anything.

​Regular Magic The Gathering Peruser seems to come in about once a week and try to convince me I need to play MtG. I told him that I learned a bit for the 2011 NPS and it didn't appeal to me, as I already spend enough money on comic book collections (trade paperbacks and hardcovers, not individual issues).

RMtGP: But, like, do you read them, or do you just look at them?

Me: I read them. I have about a small library's worth of books.

RMtGP: But once you read them, then what? You know? Now you've got this thing in your house that you'll never read again.

Me: I do read them again, though.

RMtGP: Why? I mean once you know the story. It's not like the story is going to change, you know?

Me: Well, if a story took ten parts, I probably read each part as they come out, and before the final volume, I go through and read them all again so it's all still fresh in my mind.

RMtGP: People don't have time to READ, though. You know? I play Magic every week. So my cards are my life. You know? I wouldn't have time to read something that's going to be the same as last time I read it. With cards, every experience is different.

Me: Uh-huh.

RMtGP: Do you collect board games?

I do not explain to him that my dudefriend collects tabletop games, and so there are a variety of tabletop games where I live.

Me: No.

RMtGP: You should, man. I know everybody has their ... you know ... thing or whatever. But card games are just a better investment than reading.

Me: *non-committal noise*

RMtGP: What kind of discount can I get on cards if I play a lot?

Me: Depends on how much you buy, whose cards they are, as we do consignment for some people. There are a variety of factors. Are you looking for any particular card? Did you want to buy a box?

RMtGP: Oh, I don't usually buy them here. I'm just asking.

Me: Ah. Well, if you have like a Holy Grail card you need, or want to fill up a particular themed deck, we have a number of people here on weekends that are more knowledgeable about cards than I am.

RMtGP: If you ever want to get in on a better hobby, let me know. I can tell you where all the best tournies are.

Me: Thanks. I'm sure I'll be in touch.

Then he left ... without buying anything.

On my way to get something to drink, a woman in a fanciful head scarf was approaching me. But, from a distance, with her head turned to talk to her companion, it looked like she was wearing a giant, smiling Velociraptor head. So I made a disappointed face when I realized it was just a fanciful scarf, and I fear she thinks I thought her head scarf was ugly (or worse, she thought I was some bigot who thinks I am entitled to an opinion on who should or shouldn't have the right to wear head scarves), but there was no way to gracefully articulate "I'm sorry. Your head scarf is beautiful, but it was not the fake dinosaur head I imagined you would be wearing."

​The World Is Still The Same In 2020:

Friday, I stopped into The Picnic, and was told our ink cartridge was empty, and was asked how to get a new one. I provided the info, and was told they would order it and pick it up on Friday.

On Sunday, it had neither been picked up nor ordered, so I couldn't do my Sunday tasks. So I called my boss about ordering it. He said he would order it right away.

An hour later, it had not been ordered, so I stayed on the phone until he confirmed it was ordered. Forty-five minutes later, I went to pick it up.

Emotionally Dead Staples Employee: What?

Me: I'm here to pick up an online order.

EDSE: Name?

Me: Adam.

EDSE: Danny?

Me: A.D.A.M. Adam.

EDSE: I don't have an order for you.

Me: I have the order number here.

I present her with the paper. She scrolls through her tablet.

EDSE: Nope.

Me: Nope, what?

EDSE: Nope ... sir?

Me: No. I mean ... do you not have the item in stock, do you not see the order number, does it not have my name on it?

EDSE: Are you sure you're at the right store?

Me: Could you answer my question?

EDSE: What question?

Me: Do you not have the item in stock? Do you not have the order number? Or do you have the order but not my name?

EDSE: We don't have that order number.

Me: Ok.

EDSE: Let me get my manager.

Manager is equally helpful.

I go back to The Picnic and call my boss who ... had just finished placing the order, not having actually done so when I was on the phone.

I wait about a half hour, and go back to the Staples. EDSE is slothily picking my order up off the shelf, after she makes eye contact.

Me: Hey.

EDSE: Yea?

Me: I was in here before about an online order. I didn't realize my boss had put it in so recently. But I can see you got the order so I'd like to pick it up.

EDSE: What is it?

Me: The ink cartridge you just put down. My name is Adam Stone. Here's the order number.

She looks confusedly at the order number.

EDSE: Danny?

Me: No. My name is Adam.

EDSE: I thought you said Danny.

Me: No.

EDSE: Let me see something.

She walks away.

EDSE: Sorry, This order isn't for Danny. It's for Tony or Adam.

Me: Yes. I am not Danny. I have never been Danny. My name is Adam.

EDSE: Can I see your ID?

Me: Uh. Sure.

EDSE: What did you say your order was?

Me: That ink cartridge. Right there. That's the order I'm picking up.

She rings it up.

EDSE: That will be ...

Me: No. It's already paid for. Online. I am just here to pick it up.

EDSE: Oh. Let me get a manager to void this.

Me: Can I just sign for the item first and go before you...?

EDSE walks away.

I sign the paper, grab the ink cartridge and leave,. Secure in the knowledge that if I have done something wrong, someone named Danny is sure to suffer the consequences.

​Yesterday was Comrade's birthday. As we've had almost every day so far this year, hanging out at home or going out, he didn't want to make a big deal out of it. So I ordered him a cookie cake from Perpetually Stoned Cookies.

I ordered the cake at three. Our store closed at eight, then I made my way to the cookie store.

Me: Hi. I'm here to pick up a cookie cake.

Stoned Employee 1: Sorry, those take an hour to make.

Me: That's ok. I ordered it over five hours ago.

SE1: Yes, but they take an hour.

Me: So. If I ordered it five hours ago, it should be ready.

SE1: What? You need to order them from our website.

Me: I did.

SE1: Then you have to wait an hour.

Me: Yes. I ordered one, online, at three. It's 830 now.

SE1, to the back room: DO YOU HAVE ANY COOKIE CAKES READY?

SE2: THEY TAKE AN HOUR.

Me: I ordered one five hours ago?

SE2: Your should order it online.

Me: I did.

SE2: Oh.

SE2 walks into the back.

SE1: Umm. Do you want some cookies instead?

Me: Sure?

SE2: I definitely don't have any cookie cakes ready. I could make one but it would take---

Me: About an hour? Yes. That's ok. I don't have an hour.

SE1: I'll just give you some cookies instead.

Me: Okay. Could I have two chocolate chunks.

SE1: We're out of those.

Me: O....k. Two M&Ms?

SE1: We only have one left.

Me: Big rush tonight?

SE1: What?

Me: Two snickerdoodles?

SE1: Ok.

Me: Two peanut butter cups.

SE1: DO WE HAVE ANY PEANUT BUTTER CUPS BACK THERE?

SE2: I JUST GAVE YOU A WHOLE TRAY OF THEM.

SE1: DID NOT!

Me: It's ok. I'll just have--

SE2: WE'RE OUT OF PEANUT BUTTER CUPS.

Me: What do you have left?

SE1: Sugar cookies.

Me: I guess I'll have four sugar cookies.

SE1 opens the cookie oven.

SE1: We're all out of sugar cookies.

Me, to the people behind me: Am I in a Monty Python skit?

Person behind me: What's a monkey python?

Me: Oh no.

SE1: I can give you four oatmeal raisin cookies.

Me: Of course you can. I'll just have four white chocolate macadamia cookies.

I take the box of cookies and order a Lyft, which arrives immediately. I go online and order a cookies and cream ice cream cake. On our third night together, I mentioned being irrationally angry at the existence of cookies and cream flavored Oreos. Comrade claims that's when he knew he loved me.

I am scheduled to arrive home at 9:20. The cake is supposed to arrive at 945. Perfect, I'll make waffles for dinner (we got a waffle maker for Christmas because he thinks waffles are the perfect food, and I think they're ok), then the cake will arrive. At 910, my phone rings. They are, somehow, already at the house. I am in front of their store, which is five minutes away from my house. I call Comrade.

Comrade: Did you lose your keys?

Me: No.

Comrade: Then why are you ringing the doorbell?

Me: That's not me. It's a delivery. Can you get it? I'll be home in a second.

Comrade: Sure.

Me: I --

My phone rings call waiting.

Me: Hold on a sec. The delivery guy is calling me.

Me: Hi.

Delivery Guy: I have your delivery. I'm outside.

Me: I'll be right there.

Delivery Guy: Umm. There's already someone here who says it's his.

Me: That's fine. You can give it to him.

DG: I thought you were going to pick it up.

Me: It's fine. That's my dudefriend. He can pick it up for me.

DG: Whatever.

I click back over to Comrade.

Comrade: I have the food.

Me: I know.

Comrade: Where are you?

The car pulls on to my street.

Me: Here.

I hang up the phone.

I start to get out of the car. The delivery guy is turning around in the parking lot. Comrade walks into the building. My phone rings.

Comrade: Why did you hang up on me?

I knock on the door behind him.

Comrade, hangs up his phone. "I thought you had your keys."

Me: I do!

Comrade: Then why did you knock on the door? Nevermind. I hope this isn't dinner. I just made waffles.

Regular I Haven't Missed: Do you have FandangoNow?

Me: Nope.

RIHM: Well, the other day, I saw that there was an animated movie on the service that I'd never heard of before. I don't remember the name of it.

Me: Ok.

RIHM: It looks like it's by an artist that I hate, do you know the artist Blah Blah Blah Nobody Cares?

Me: Nope.

RIHM: Well, it looks just like his stuff. And his stuff is awful.

Me: Ok.

RIHM: I went to watch it, and it wasn't very good. But at least it wasn't by Blah Blah Blah Nobody Cares. It still stunk, though.

Me: Ok.

RIHM: I think you can also find it on Youtube.

Me: So you're saying there's a terrible show, that you hate,and don't even know the name of, on a streaming service I don't have access to, and I should commit my time to tracking it down on

Youtube. Why?

RIHM: Huh?

Me: Why would I seek out something you just told me was awful?

RIHM: Maybe you would like it.

Me: Nah.

​I very much don't miss Saturdays here.

Random Vendor: Hi, can I talk with (Former Coworker Name)?

Me: They haven't worked here in years.

RV: I guess I haven't called in a year.

Me: It's been ten years since they left.

RV: Are you sure?

Me: Yeup. They trained me, and left a few months later.

RV: Can you get me their personal number?

Me: Nope. We don't have it.

LIAR!

RV: How would I go about selling my product to you?

Me: What is it?

RV: It's a fanzine.

Me: About comics?

RV: No.

Me: ... uhhh ... why don't you call you back on Friday and talk with the owner?

RV: Does he have their number?

Me: Nope.

I delete the person's phone number out of our computer, and write it on a note, to add it back in a couple of weeks, when I'm certain the person won't call again.

RV: It's pretty important that I get in touch with them.

Me: If you leave your contact info, I can pass it along to them. We have some mutual friends.

This is another lie. I see them every few months.

RV: I don't feel comfortable giving my number out to someone I don't know.

Me: RIGHT? I hear you.

RV: Will they be in next week?

Me: No, dude, they DON'T WORK HERE anymore. At all. Ever. And haven't in a decade. Your info is way out of date.

RV: That can't be right.

Me: It's right.

RV: Who have I been talking to?

Me: Couldn't tell you. But we haven't carried that book in the decade that I've worked here.

RV: NO. I send them out to you every year.

Me: Nope. Never seen it before.

RV: Is this Name Of Store That's Not Even In The Comic Book Industry?

Me: No. It's Store Name.

RV: OH. Yea, you guys don't carry my books.

Me: We sure don't.

RV: I didn't even know Former Coworker Name worked there.

Me: I'm thinking now that it is an entirely different person with that very common name.

RV: Wow. I just wasted a ton of my time.

Me: Mmmmmmm.

RV: Do you happen to have the phone number of Store That's Not Even In The Comic Book Industry?

Me: Nope.

This is yet another lie. I have Le Google. But I'm not going to le use it.

RV grunts and hangs up.

​I re-add the former coworker's contact info into the computer.