Recently, I went shopping with Mrs. Sassy Sassmouth. It was our annual Christmas shopping trip, which by the way after we finish, I spend the next 364 days dreading. Now don’t get me wrong, the dread has nothing to do with Sassy, my partner in snark. I love spending time with her and to be completely honest, I also enjoy shopping. What I do not however enjoy is dealing with snotty-nose degenerate kids who run like wild dogs in the street of some third world country village. But I digress, on to the story.
The first place Sassy and I went to was Menards… We had a gift card that we had to spend otherwise we would have went to a store that I don’t hate. It’s not that Menards doesn’t have kind service or good prices or a lack of options. In fact, there in lies the issue. They don’t just carry tools and other fix it crap. They have a damn supermarket section, seriously they sell milk and crap like that. Even DVD’s. Hey Menard’s, News Flash: You’re not Walmart or any other super store for that matter. You’re a fricking home improvement store, know your place! But hey, we did get a power washer, some soup mix and a few picture frames at a very reasonable price, so who’s bitching?
Next, we moved onto a coffee joint. That’s right, Duder needs his Mocha. Outside said coffee joint was a Santa giving rides on a horse drawn carriage and boy did the kiddies love it. A few minutes into or coffee break Santa’s tour ended and he came into the store and retrieved a garbage bag from behind the counter and retreated to the bathroom. Sassy and I discussed that he must have been going to shed his Santa garb and head home. After several more minutes we decided it was about time to move on. I however needed to use the bathroom before we could move on but Santa had not returned. You see Duder has the bladder of a small girl. Sassy mentioned that Santa may have discretely snuck out the back. So, I headed to the bathroom and as I turned the handle it made the tell tale click of a locked door. That’s when I heard from the other side, “Ho, ho…” That’s right, I startled St. Nick in the bathroom and he let out the old Ho ho ho. Wow. For a brief moment, I thought I heard Donner and Blitzen on the roof.
Finally, we moved on to Walmart. Yes, the pinnacle of our shopping extravaganza. The customers there just amaze me. I mean our Walmart is built in a pretty afluent area but frick, we get a lot of degenerates up in there. I firmly believe that Walmart is like field of dreams, if you build it they will come. You could build that store in Beverly Hills and they inbreds would still flock to it. The worst thing isn’t the aforementioned wild dogs/kids running around, it’s their parents. The kids really don’t stand a chance when their toothless, NASCAR loving parents set the bar so incredibly low.
I’ll leave you with my favorite memory of the day: A little girl walking around hitting herself in the head with a tube of wrapping paper, while her parents just kept bellowing, walk faster, walk faster, not don’t hit yourself in the head and destroy the few brain cells we passed on… just walk faster and likely turn left…. I think that was a NASCAR joke but I am too cool to be sure.