Okay, it’s time. It’s here, and we can’t avoid it. And personally, I’d rather be beaten with a wet whip. Even though the OFFICIAL holiday shopping season does not begin until Black Friday—the day after Thanksgiving—we all know that it has already begun. How do we know?
Because it’s not hard to figure out when you walk into Wally World and see jack-0-lanterns sitting under a damn Christmas tree, that’s why! Crap—one holiday blends right into the next these days. I don’t know why they don’t just have one big room with one big tree sitting in the center decorated with Christmas lights and little Easter bunnies and turkeys, toss in a mix of leprechauns and hearts, some July 4th sparklies, and then just lay all the pumpkins under the tree year round. Makes more sense. They could call it the Holiday Room or something like that.
Okay, if anyone sees this happening anywhere, let me know cause it was MY idea first and I want royalties of some sort for coming up with it.
By the time Christmas actually rolls around, my spirit has gone out the window. I’ve seen all the tinsel and lights I care to see. Even the town where I live has already wrapped the street lamps with red ribbon and bows and put up the wreaths. Yep, already. It comes earlier and earlier every damn year. What happened to anticipation? And you know what? It really did come earlier this year than it has before. I honestly think that it did. Why? Maybe because the stores are so concerned about the economy they are “gently”—yeah right—reminding everyone they NEED to spend money with them earlier this year cause it might run out before Christmas—their money—not the merchandise.
And along with holiday shopping comes the usually piss-me-off situations too. People are just plain rude. But that’s the way it is at Wally World year round, isn’t it? When I turn my cart down an aisle and see that it’s busy, do I park my cart in the middle of the aisle or turn it so it’s sitting crossways? Nope. But you can bet your ass there is always someone on that aisle who’ll do exactly that. And when you say “excuse me”, you’ll have to say it several times because they are either enjoying a nice long chat with someone or they are pretending to be deep in thought when they are really just ignoring the eff out of you cause they don’t want to be bothered. Asswipe—where’s the toilet paper aisle?
What about those people who are in front of you pushing their cart at minus fifty five miles per hour. You know the ones—out for a Sunday stroll—Wally World is ALL the entertainment they have in their lives and every damn thing in sight simply fascinates them? Well, maybe they’re shut ins and don’t get out much but—I DON’T GIVE A HAPPY RAT’S ASS—GET OUT OF MY FREAKING WAY WHY DON’T YA?
Oh, here’s one for ya—kids. Mamas who cannot/will not control their snotty-nosed kids should be banned from shopping. If your kid is NOT ready for prime time, get him a leash, please! And the best thing to do is to drop him off at Granny’s. I do not want to listen to you scream at your child. I do not want to watch said child swinging on everybody’s shopping carts or touching everything in sight with his dirty little hands that I MIGHT just want to buy. And please, take the kid to the bathroom the moment he starts doing the damn pee pee dance. I don’t want to slip on a yellow puddle either and most certainly DO NOT want to smell said puddle or the kid’s wet pants after YOU didn’t take him to the bathroom. God, how can a person continue to shop when they know their kid is soaking wet in piss and has got to be miserable?
What about the sales associates? Have any of them ever actually helped you? Do they really have a clue? First off, can you EVER FIND ONE? And when you do, it’s always someone else’s responsibility isn’t it? Someone else knows and no one knows where to find that someone else. I imagine them hiding behind stacks of boxes in the warehouse waiting until I leave and the all clear is given.
And why is it what I want is always on the very top shelf?
Now let’s talk about Black Friday. Do you go? Are you that brave? I’m not. NOPE, won’t go. Never. My sis went again last year. Said the place was packed at the entrance and had a line that stretched to the end of that big ass parking lot—people wearing nightgowns and curlers, men in shorts and no shirts—uh huh—lots of hair sticking straight up. And when the doors opened there was an absolute stampede. She was ready for it, though. Her first year she got spun around several times and almost trampled. So she figured out how to stick out her elbows and stand firm while she ran with the rest of the pack. I kid you not. She demonstrated her technique for me too.
So she got inside and went running to electronics where the computer was that she wanted. Nope, Not there, it was stacked over in the grocery section—so she and like ten or twelve others go running to the grocery side of the store—not a short distance. Once there, they all sort of slam on brakes. Why? Because there is a pregnant woman—about eight or nine months along—big damn belly—spread out over the boxes of computers—each foot is touching a computer, each hand touching a computer, her ass is sitting on one, and her legs are covering at least two each. And she’s looking at everyone and saying: “Anything I’m touching belongs to me.”
My sis said she was sorely tempted to give the woman a C-section right on the spot. Cutlery aisle please!
But Sis got her computer anyway—yes, they were all gone by the time she got shoved to the rear of the pack but Sis—not to be taken lightly, ever—went to the manager to complain. And as it turns out—the manager is ready for just about everything. He always holds back a couple of items it would seem, for customers who are ready to kill, and I KNOW Sis had murder in her eyes. She called me from the store and used all kinds of nasty, vile words at five fifteen in the morning to wake me up!
You’ve seen those pics on groups. You sit at your comp with your mouth wide open and shake your head, don’t ya? I do. Honestly? I’ve never seen a lot of that at my local store, but occasionally, someone does stand out.
But I look at these people and think: THEY ARE NUTS. I mean, don’t they know people who should say to them: “DON’T GO OUT IN PUBLIC LOOKING LIKE THAT” ? Seriously, wouldn’t you tell them not to go? It’s kind of like American Idol only for clothes and general appearance. I mean, all those people who show up for Idol who CAN’T sing and you think: SHOULDN’T SOMEONE AT SOME POINT HAVE INFORMED THEM AS TO THEIR LACK OF FREAKING TALENT???????
I know for a fact that if I ever dressed up like any of these people or had a hair style that looked like someone should take a weed whacker to it, one of my kids would sit on me and NOT let me go anywhere until I’d had a serious makeover consultation—and then I’d better be fixed too.
And wouldn’t you think that Wally World would give the greeters a button to push alerting the men in white coats to bring their nets? You can’t tell me that someone who goes out in public dressed like a fool is NOT crazy. They are definitely crazy. It’s okay to walk to the beat of a different drummer, but shit, shouldn’t ya bring the sticks?
One more thing before I close. Do you ever play the parking game? You know the one—where you ride around the parking lot for what could be only a couple of minutes and up to thirty or more looking for a parking space. And along the way you end up giving someone the finger at least once?
Okay, Wally World has garnered enough of my attention today. Got any horror stories? Any shopping tales from HELL? I’d love to hear them. I don’t want to feel alone. Truly don’t. Is it just me, after all?
