The other day, I went to my local Wal-Mart Supercenter, and I realized something: walking through a Wal-Mart is more entertaining than television. Give me Aisle 8 of Wal-Mart anyday over Lost. 90% of the people you see at Wal-Mart look like they haven't left their house/trailer for weeks (where they were busy watching Judge Judy knockoff shows and not showering). The freaks you see at Wal-Mart beat any circus hands-down. Whenever I walk through a Wal-Mart, not only am I no longer bored, I instantly feel better about my own life. Sure, I may not have a job, my girlfriend cheated on me, I watch porn more hours than I spend sleeping, my mom's paying my way through college, I get fucked up every night of the week, etc.; but at least I'm not like these regular Wal-Mart shoppers. Wow, I just used ‘my mom' and ‘porn' in the same sentence. I need to take a line break.
I usually would never step into Wal-Mart even if you put a loaded gun to my head, but I spilled some Franzia on some very important carpet and needed to get some powerful carpet cleaner. As I was walking through the detergent/cleaner aisle, a woman is unscrewing the cap of a detergent. My brain instantly smiles. I've seen people maybe taking a drink of water before they buy it, but opening a bottle of detergent? She unscrews the cap and takes a deep, long, whiff of the detergent. What the fuck?! She's either addicted to getting high off of detergent or she's trying to find the right one. Again, what the fuck? It's detergent, just fucking buy it, lady. Who cares what it smells like? It's not like the scents show up that much (buy some fabric softener or some shit if you care about the scent of your clothes, and if you care about the scent of your clothes, it's amazing that you're shopping at Wal-Mart) and it's not like the scents are that different on detergent. There's no Manure Downy or Sweaty Socks Charmin. It's all fucking Cool Mountain Breeze. That's the scent of every single detergent, swear to God.
Then what I assume is either the woman's daughter or the girl she just kidnapped goes "oooh! ooh! let me smell!" Great, your daughter's off the wagon, too. The woman hands the detergent to her. I'm struggling at this point not to yell out "Jesus fucking Christ, lady, I know this is a Wal-Mart and the detergent has a higher IQ than you, but think of the children! You do not give an opened bottle of detergent to a child! That shit is fucking harmful! Kids find a way to injure themselves with Legos and you're giving her fucking detergent! That shit gets in your eyes or mouth, game over. And you know kids love putting shit in their mouth. She'll probably think, ‘this smells good, let me take a swig. After all, I'm just a fucking kid. What do I know?'" But instead I just kept walking, thinking, ‘God, I wish they sold guns here. Oh wait, they do.' Time to play what I call A Depressed Russian Roulette: put 6 bullets in a pistol, give ‘er a spin and pull the trigger.
As I was walking out, I swear I saw a guy with a shirt that said FBI: Federal Booty Hunter. Now I've seen the shirts with Federal Body Inspector, but I swear this one said Federal Booty Hunter under the letters FBI. These people (these Wal-Mart freaks) can't even abbreviate. But apparently they can do basic math (sort of), because a truck parked outside had a bumper sticker that said "3 Nails + 1 Cross = 4GVN." I think I just lost faith.
Why are shootings always in schools? Why can't some nut shoot up a Wal-Mart instead? We need to hire gene pool boys.
Here's you typical Wal-Mart store layout. Take a walk down any Wal-Mart in America and this is what you'll find:
- Aisle 1: Magazines, Books, A guy jerking it to Tiger Beat
- Aisle 2: Health & Beauty, Cosmetics, A midget with four legs (so he has the same amount of leg as a normal person)
- Aisle 3: Hair Care, Personal Hygiene, 3 people dressed up: 1 as Michael Jackson while he was black, 1 as Michael Jackson while he was white, and 1 as Michael Jackson right now
- Aisle 4: Home & Office, School Supplies, A full-grown man breastfeeding his mother
- Aisle 5: Cleaning Supplies, Air Fresheners, A black leprochaun
- Aisle 6: Toys, Action Figures, A woman yelling at the unborn baby inside her stomach to stop kicking her or she'll ground it
The moral of the blog is you could be running around Wal-Mart naked, threatening people with staplers and rubbing relish and other condiments on your body, slaughtering animals and forcing the elderly greeter to drink the blood of the animals, and you'd still be the most normal person in that Wal-Mart.