The Mind of Spaz

I went back to Wal*Mart again.

I just can’t help it.  All the little turds lovely little children that my friends shat out gave birth to will have some cheap chinese made crap nifty little gifts from me this year.

Even though it was midnight on a Thursday night, there were still some very ugly people hogging the entire rows.  One of my favorites I’ll call VW, because she was the size and shape of a VolksWagon Beetle. I’m not kidding.

But I think the very best was B.O. Bag Lady.  I kept bumping into this woman. Wherever I was, she was.  She was around every corner, in every department, making my eyes water with her horrible “I haven’t washed since JFK was shot” smell.

She even ended up standing in line behind me and she HIT on me!  I was eying the Trojan Ultra Thins hanging in the impulse buy section, but I couldn’t find any bags to put over her head so I decided against it.

As annoying as Wal*Mart is, today I found something even more annoying.

Future Shop.

You don’t see the same type of people at Future Shop. No, these look like normal everyday people with pockets of zit ridden nerds sprinkled liberally throughout.  Actually, these are worse people.

These are the pushy entitled elitist shits.

The store was packed to elbow room only, and every single person in there was desperate to get a Wii.  Either that, or they all had to go to the washroom bad. I dunno.

All I wanted was a stinking gift card.  I grabbed one off a shelf walked to the back of the line, which happened to be about a block away from my house. Huh. Should have walked.

I waited for about a half hour and the line moved two inches forward.  My black mood was getting worse.  I had my utility knife out and was just about to slit the throat of the soccer mom in front of me if she snapped her bubble gum ONE more time when a very nice but frazzled looking store employee approached me.

“Sir, are you buying a Wii?”

“You have to pay to do that now?!?!?”

“ugh, if all you want is the gift card then you should go to customer service.  This line is for Wii’s”.

I thanked her and got out of there before I got Wii’d on.  Everybody knows that only makes you warmer for a very short time, before it makes you cold again.

I got in line behind a gaggle of dorks returning some Sony Playstations.  Holey fuck they took their sweet time.  I don’t know what they were going on about, something about upgraded memories or some shit, but it took all I had not to wedgie the dorks.

It was then that I lucked out again. A very good looking employee with HUGE boobs asked that the next person in line go to the till she was opening.  The next person in line was me.  She called another employee over to the till with even BIGGER boobs, but I didn’t find him particularly attractive at all.

It’s then when things got really, really irritating.

“Put forty bucks on this gift card please.”

“Sir, we can’t do gift cards at customer service. You’ll have to go to cash”.

I.Just.Snapped.

“EXCUSE ME?”

The poor kid ducked so fast I swear his boobs slapped him in the forhead.

“I spent half an hour waiting in THAT line behind a machine gun farter when I was TOLD to come here only to listen to that gaggle of dorks argue over a stupid gaming machine for YOU to tell ME to go back in THAT line?”

“Umm, umm.. well, I guess I could process that for you here”.

“I don’t care if you process it in your ASS just take my money and put it on the damned card NOW!”

Forty seconds later I was out the door and in my truck.

I hate holiday shopping. Especially at Wal*Mart and Future Shop.

social commentary christmas sucks my balls, futureshop, Wal*Mart

I went to Wal*Mart.

Yes, I realize that this is a humor blog and I’m supposed to be writing humor, but there’s nothing funny about going to Wal*Mart.

Ok, EVERYTHING is funny about Wal*Mart! Who am I trying to kid!

Because I’m a childless asshole, I don’t have the first clue what to buy for kids.  Seriously.  Following the directions on the package doesn’t work either. It SAID ages 3+ on the package, and this kid was seventeen.  Seventeen is greater than three, so why the hell did try to shove it up my ass?

And come on, what six year old wouldn’t love a home made flame thrower.  This one was no exception, he DID love it!  Why the mother tried to get all Lorena Bobbitt on my ass I haven’t the foggiest.

So this year, my buddy came with me to shop for his kids and the other kids on my list.  He even corrected me as to what a Bionicle actually was.

The evil Wal*Mart conglomerate’s mass buying Chinese children slavery manufacturing practices have made it almost impossible to do quantity buying anywhere else.  What I’m saying is, they are cheap, and that’s where we went.

We pulled up into the parking lot at 9 P.M. on a Thursday night to a sea of minivans, parked haphazardly outside of the painted yellow lines dispersed among the shopping carts thoughtlessly left wherever, even though there were return corrals sprinkled liberally throughout.

Yay, entitlement.  This shopping trip isn’t going to make me want to kill, at all.

We walked through the double wide doors to accomodate a flood of morbid obesity going in and out to find the worlds oldest man greeting us at the door.

He offered to get us a cart but I said we didn’t need one.  In reality we probably did, but I didn’t want to be the one responsible for giving the old coot a heart attack because of the effort.  Don’t get me wrong, I know CPR, it’s just that I really didn’t want to go lip to lip with this guy.  People that eat nothing but cat food have some serious dragon breath.

Here’s the thing about Wal*Mart.  Looking around the store, I felt positively anorexic.  Just about EVERYBODY there is HUGE!  It’s like all the big people in my city all go to Wal*Mart ALL at the same time, ALL the time.

The Wal*Mart people MUST know this fact, and yet, the aisles are barley three feet wide!  They pack as much crap in as they possibly can to sell more, then pack as many fatties as they can fit in the store.

Have you ever tried to navigate your way around a hephalump, two rhino’s and a gaggle of big breasted schoolboys all trying to get through the same three foot space at the same time? No? Go to Wal*Mart.

Despite the over abundance of inventory, people are grabbing at shit like it’s bottled water and the world’s coming to an end.  I still have the bruises from being pistol whipped by a barbie doll while trying to reach for a fake toy power drill.

But there’s one good thing to all this: Seeing fat hustle.

These fatties, in their effort to get things, ramp it up to marathon pace.  The jiggling chins, the flushed faces, the sweat and the heavy breathing, the bobbling man boobs and the unintentional machine gun farting, all make for some serious fodder for mocking.

So I suppose it isn’t so bad. Still, I’m glad I only go there once a year.  Any more and I risk getting squished between two five-hundred pound ladies desperate for the latest “pee myself” dolls.

‘Nuff  Said.

politically incorrect, social commentary fat people, stupid shoppers, Wal*Mart