To Term A Contradiction

(My coworker and I are discussing our avid distaste for the ‘Twilight’ books.)

Me: “I mean… even if you look past the story line, the syntax is poor, and the vocabulary redundant. I don’t understand how it even qualifies as literature.”

Coworker: “I know. What’s to gain from even reading it?”

(A customer approaches, and I take her order. As I’m loading a box of plain glazed donuts for her, I suddenly notice a teenage girl standing at the other end of the counter. She looks quite shy as she waits for assistance. She’s wearing a shirt that I can’t help but admire aloud.)

Me: “‘…and then Buffy staked Edward. The end.’ I love your shirt!”

Teenage Girl: *shyly* “…thank you!”

Me: “My coworker and I were just making fun of that series… what a coincidence!”

Teenage Girl: *nodding enthusiastically* “I know! I like, totally love Buffy! But I like, totally love Twilight, too!”

(I feel my smile freeze in place, and politely refrain from commenting further. The girl continues to chatter on about the vastly different vampire series.)

Teenage Girl: “And I like, totally have this Cullen jacket and some jewelry… and I wore them with this shirt last week and I was, like… all… opposite-y…”

Me: *smile still frozen in place* “I see…”

(I finish the other customer’s donut order and ring her up. The teenager doesn’t take the hint and continues to wax poetic about her conflicting interests, trying to hold my attention. My coworker, who has been present for the whole exchange, assists the teenage girl with her order for cookies. After both customers leave, I turn to my coworker.)

Coworker: “‘Opposite-y?'”

Me: “I think the word she was looking for was ‘contradiction.'”

Coworker: “Let’s blame Meyers for that.”

Me: “Case in point. Not much of a lexicon.”