Today, I had to go to Walmart. And let’s just say it’s always an adventure going there. I feel that store qualifies for it’s own reality show. I mean seriously; if you can’t afford cable, this is the place to be. In my opinion they should set up theatre style chairs and offer popcorn. Because the stuff I’m about to share can’t even be made up.
Before we can get to our “Main Showing” we first must get through the parking lot. Now, if you enjoy playing Russian Roulette with your life. Then, the Walmart Parking lot will give you that “heart pounding, want to piss in your pants, praying your life insurance is up to date” thrill you are seeking. Nothing liking dodging cars driven by people who escaped the nursing home. The grandparents who forewent the cataract surgery in order to leave their kids a little more inheritance. Or the people who obviously failed the 1st grade. Since they still don’t know what that red octagon sign with the words “STOP” mean. Sure just drive through the cross walk. Because I’m not going to even explain to you what that sign means. If you don’t get what a stop sign means. There is no hope that you will figure out what the hell the sign with people on it means.
Now, if you managed to survive not getting ran over. You can step into our main attraction. The beautiful store called Walmart. Now, when you enter I am almost convinced we are getting misted with LSD. Because some of the shit I saw today made me pray I was hallucinating. I mean I feel this is where the producers find their stars for “What not to Wear”. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Obviously, there was a casting call for the show. Except, I was the only one who didn’t get the memo. And dressed normal. Damn it! I so wanted to be a star. Oh, well maybe next time. But let’s give a round of applause to the people who probably made the cut. First, was the lady with her short shorts rolled up even shorter. Basically, they were flossing her ass cheeks. Maybe, that was the purpose. Or she was hoping to score a gig for the before pic for cellulite. Now, I also have flabby, cottage cheese, white looking thighs. Hence, why I don’t wear short shorts rolled up shorter. I don’t want to walk around looking like the skin of a chicken leg. If that visual didn’t put you on a diet. My adjectives are slacking.
The next person to make it to the 2nd round was the lady with cropped top and gut hanging out and the stretched out compression leggings. Where do I even begin with this train wreck. First, let’s start with the, “Why the hell are you trying to dress like you are going to the gym?” Girl you ain’t fooling anyone. Those feet have never touched the inside of no damn gym! And a cropped top? Did your shirt shrink in the dryer? Because girls like you and me should not wear cropped tops! Unless, we are trying to encourage young girls to practice abstinence. Now, for the record. I was probably as big as this girl. How do I know? Because I just had to super size my underwear today. And when I took them out of the package I thought I was going to have to take them back. Because these weren’t underwear. They are god-damn wind sockets! But I tried them on they fit like a glove. Nothing pops a denial bubble like being the proud owner of “my ass will need 2 seats on the airplane ” underwear! So, I’m not judging. I’m just telling it how it is.
Now, if the clothing choices don’t entertain you. You can change the channel to the crazy employees. I had 2 favorites on my visit today. The first one was the sample lady. Is that what they are called? She was setting up her little booth while she talked on the phone. Really she was nice enough to include all of us in our conversation. Especially, loved when she told the person on the line to “Shut the f*ck up”. Hell yeah! It’s the ghetto sample lady who couldn’t get a gig on Costco. I almost took a sample of the V8 she was trying to tempt us with. I was thinking that shit is spiked and I could use a drink about now. But I decided against it. I even almost intervened when 2 kids went running up to the stand for their samples. Like I didn’t want to be morally responsible for them if they started swearing like sailors. I mean,I throw the f bomb out like no other. Just not usually in public. I guess we all couldn’t have parents who made us bite into bars of soap when we cussed.
My second all star employee was my cashier. He was a real nice guy. But after being stuck in the store for an hour I wasn’t in the mood for a commentary on most of the items I bought. It was like watching animal planet. “Oh, look you got pork grinds! I love Pork Grinds!” Was I suppose to open the bag and offer him some? I wasn’t sure what social etiquette called for in this situation. My favorite is when he got excited about my pillow. It was only $5 and I was about to buy him his own so he would stop hugging mine. Maybe, they have to test the product out before they sell it now. God forbid I went home with a unhuggable pillow. I was just glad I didn’t need to purchase tampons today. Otherwise, I’m afraid he would have told me how to make cool crafts out of them.
Well, I finally made it home. And even though I want to bleach my eyes out. I’m happy to see there’s a bottle of rum on my counter. If I was smart I would have snuck that in my purse. Because I don’t know what it is about grocery shopping at Walmart that makes me want to drink! If you need a reason to drink. Just go there. If you are an author looking for inspiration.Bam! All the characters that eluded you were just hanging out at Walmart. Who knew?And if you are Netflix. I would consider scoping it out for you future documentary, “Where do serial killers hang out”. Thanks for sharing this experience with me. I feel better knowing that I’m not going to be the only one traumatized by my shopping trip.