Snakes on a 10 horse power outboard engine.

So since gas is expensive to the power of hella and I’m still at least one decimal place in my salary away from being able to afford to buy a Tesla, I do the occasional online survey to earn fuel reward points, because a 10¢ off per litre is currently higher on my priority list than my dignity.

The surveys are usually pretty innocuous if occasionally somewhat time-consuming, and just between you and me, trying to figure out how the hell I would rate the overall personality and trustworthiness of a particular brand of dish soap is a great way to look like I’m concentrating on something super important when I’m actually just bored out of my skull in the office.

As one might expect, the questions are usually heavily focused on one single company or product. Does this meatless burger packaging have enough “kale-loving yogi” appeal? Would you be more willing to switch from soulless internet provider A to soulless internet provider B if they could install an ethernet port directly into your brain? How likely are you to recommend General John Johnson’s Grade AAA Panda Jerky to a friend or loved one?

Sometimes this means I’m not in their target demographic at all (hey, they can’t all be about panda jerky), and after a few questions I get a nice, “Well, thanks for your time, but as you’re not looking into purchasing an ethically sourced, wind-turbine-powered breast pump in the near future, we’re done here.”

And then sometimes there’s the odd exception to that whole specificity thing.

And I mean the REALLY odd exception.

I feel like there has to have been some mistake. Like the Most Interesting Man in the World’s email address is one letter off from mine and this was meant for him instead.

I find myself really, really wanting there to be someone out there for whom every answer to these questions is yes. Maybe they’re even on vacation in Europe right now, unicycling their way around the streets of Luxembourg with a crab pot balanced on their head because they’re the kind of person who can get away with crab pots as a fashion accessory.

You know the type.

Out of curiosity, I refreshed the page to see if this was a set list of questions or if shit would get even more random. And shit got more random.

Did I own a pet snake?
How about a ferret?
Had I been caught running a red light in the past six months?
Have I purchased a kayak recently?

I hit refresh about six more times, getting new questions almost every time, and literally the only ones I could honestly respond to in the affirmative were Have you ever owned a TV? and Have you been to a shopping center in the last three months?

I can’t be sure, but I think I just heard the Most Interesting Man in the World swivel around in a supple leather desk chair perched precariously on a remote peak of the Himalayas to shoot me a long-distance withering glance over his bottle of Dos Equis.

Okay, so I haven’t had sprinklers installed so I can play tennis on my beautiful healthy green non-existent lawn. So I haven’t fitted an outboard motor to a kayak to take my pet snakes for whirlwind rides around the coast. Not everyone has the luxury of driving recklessly while waving ferrets around and having July birthdays, okay? That doesn’t mean all I am is a dull TV-watching mallrat. It just means these survey people aren’t asking the right questions.

You know, like Have you bought a mandoline slicer off Amazon between the hours of 2 and 3am within the past week?
Or Have you consumed one or more bottles of late harvest Merlot by yourself over the course of a single evening while playing Overwatch in a fluffy turquoise bathrobe?
How about Do you own more than a dozen pairs of novelty socks featuring any species of bird?
Or even Do you spend at least ten minutes a day staring at the cracks in your washroom ceiling hoping the neighbors’ bathtub isn’t going to crash through and flatten you while you’re showering?

‘Cause, I mean, that’s 4/4 resounding yeses right there.

Your move, Most Interesting Man.

It’s the first day of summer. Feliz Navidad!

Today is the summer solstice. The longest goddamn day of the year.

Maybe I’d be more inclined to enjoy that if I were lying in the sun on a pristine beach somewhere with a mai tai in one hand and a piña colada in the other – and two or three or ten more on the way, ideally served to me by Robert Downey Jr. – but I’m not. I’m stuck in a dreary grey office with dreary grey clouds outside the window and it’s Monday and therefore everything is terrible.

So fuck summer. Let’s have Christmas instead.
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I have your boobs.

I feel it necessary to inform you all that I just nearly sprained my neck in my haste to go back and reread a Facebook comment that I was 99% positive said, “I have your boobs.”

Well well. This day just got a couple of cup sizes more interesting, now didn’t it?

Me being me, by the halfway point of my double-take I was already doing what I do best: logic-ing up my own explanation for what could possibly have been meant by the statement without any regard whatsoever for context or common sense.

Four little words, so many potential interpretations. See if you can spot the correct one below.

(a) Commenter is holding the OP’s boobs for ransom but lacked any magazines or newspapers with which to construct a proper non-social-media ransom note, because really who has magazines or newspapers lying around the house these days when you can just access them all online?

(b) Commenter borrowed the OP’s boobs for the weekend and wants to return them but OP hasn’t been answering her texts, so commenter resorted to contacting her publicly on Facebook instead.

(c) Commenter is OP’s daughter. She’s always thought her mom had an awesome rack, is super stoked that genetics favored her with a matching set, and figured it was high time she let the world know it.

(d) OP was announcing an author Q&A and what the commenter actually said was, “I have your books,” and I’m just an idiot.

If you were around for my A to Z Challenge post where I mentioned my habit of cutting corners when I read and the hilariously baffling literary misunderstandings that ensue, then you’ll know the correct answer is (d).

You’d also think I’d be wise to my own shenanigans by now and jump to the conclusion of (d) myself in the first place, but you there you would be wrong.

So very wrong.