That's it. I'm calling my children Dick and Jane and be done with it.

I should probably be somewhat concerned with the number of "kids these days..." conversations I've had of late. I know--I know--that too much self-righteousness is a giant road sign that says YOU WILL SOON BE SORRY YOU DISPLAYED YOUR SUPERIORITY COMPLEX IN PUBLIC. But sometimes I look at the world around me, and I can't believe what I'm seeing. I found a perfect example on Baby Names World this morning. Ahem:

"Yesterday in the grocery store while I waiting to check out there was the cutest baby in front of me so naturally, being obsessed with names, I had to find out what it was. The mother told me...
Demelza Elixabete. No joke! I was shocked, and so happy, I thought these names were only used on the boards here, I was so glad to see them used on an actual baby.. I told her what a great naming style she had and she laughed and told me her hubby wanted to name her McKenzie, good thing momma got the vote.
P.S. they call her Demi (DEM-mee) for short, so cute"

I...WHAT!? I keep shaking my head and blinking in the hopes that my vision will clear up and I'll discover that it was all a terrible mistake. The baby was named what!? Why would-- But just-- I can't--

No. Just no.

my friends say I'm cranky and I'm bumming them out/ instead of a smile I've got a permanent pout

My headache is a giant, evil stormcloud hanging over me like in the cartoons. Or maybe that's my mood. Technical difficulties bother me, especially when there's a human element. (In this case, "I want to return the email of the VP of retail, but the chart she sent me crashed my email account and also? I have no idea what it represents or what I'm supposed to do with it.") I have wrapped this problem up for tonight, but it took me roughly an hour and required spook's help, and Melanie's, and may yet require the help of more people before I'm done with it tomorrow.

I just want to eat a giant plate of cheesy fries, but I did that yesterday, and I'm broke.

Hmm. Yep, I sound like a petulant five-year-old. I'm gonna console myself with tonight's episode of Canada's Worst Handyman. Last week I watched a woman take one hundred and seventy-one taps with a hammer to drive in one nail. Witnessing the profound incompetence of others is a balm to my wounded sense of accomplishment.

Note to self: in case of zombie attack, Mike is bait.

INT. LUNCHROOM. 'col, Steve and Mike are waiting for a meeting.

'col: I'm paranoid.

Mike: Really?

Steve: Nicole, what do we do in case of zombie attack?

c: That depends. Do we have any idea what the scale of the problem is? 'Cause it affects strategy.

M: Don't you need onions?


[Two beats of total silence.]


S: Onions?

c: Not unless you're planning to season the zombies.

S: Do you mean garlic?

M: Yeah, garlic!

c [exasperated]: That's vampires, Mike!

M: So how do you kill zombies?

c: YOU DESTROY THE BRAIN.