Anyway, I was at savons getting some perscriptions filled, and you know they can ring it up if you have an item or two at the perscription desk?  Well, I was running out of lubricant…
What 10-W40 you say?
No, no, that’s for engine parts ball bearings and shafts and things like that…  I’m sorry, I had to try some blue material, the best I can do is powder blue.
No, sexual lubricant.  And lube, my friends is a wonderful thing, I imagine every married couple eventually gets it.  Because you know after 25 years she’s not going to get dripping and he’s not going to get granite just from the sight of their significant other’s naked, withered body.  This way, neither of them have to be aroused mentally to go through the mechanics of fulfilling one’s marital obligation.
And, of course, lubricant is especially useful when one is working with a part of the body that is not self-moisturizing.  I.e. one’s hand.  Let’s face it, for every 8oz. container of lube used for proper things like booty love and all-night marathons, another 10 are gone through by a single teenager trying to make it through the week.
Anyway, I of course wanted to be put in the booty love, all-night marathons category.  So I get a box of condoms as well.  I figured, that un-openned economy-sized box I bought back when I was optimistic in high school has probably expired by know.  No, see, that last parts an exaggeration, sadly a mild one, but still buying lube at a savon’s isn’t exactly funny until you realize I really was buying lube, and a box of ultra-thin Trojans, evidently, and a little extra optimism with it.
It is gathering dust next to the economy box as we speak.
Put still, this is not the mildly humorous part.  Oh, no, it gets mildly better.