Monday, September 7, 2009

Labor Day at Wal-Mart

Today is Labor Day. A celebration of the contributions of laborers far and wide. I don’t think what I do falls into this category, technically speaking, but just try stopping me from celebrating with something off the grill. I imagine you have to contribute to the gross national product to count. In my mind I imagine folks with shovels but I think pretty much anyone bringing home a paycheck in exchange for hours and effort counts. Or maybe it’s just those who belong to unions? I don’t know. Just bring on the BBQ please.

This morning Michael and I decided we needed to go to Wal-Mart for a few last minute school supplies and groceries for the week (and David: PEACHES). I just wanted to go—I’d shower later. Why is it that I don’t care how I look (or smell for that matter) when it comes to Wal-Mart? He asked me, “What are you gonna do when you end up on People of Wal-Mart?” Smart aleck.

Have you seen this website? I’ve looked at it every day for about a week. I keep telling myself I’ll quit looking Tomorrow. It feels mean I guess, but it’s just so hilarious. As I’ve looked each day I wonder if I’ve ever seen anything as creepy/disgusting/contagious/sparkly/etc. as that at our local Wal-Marché. I guess I don’t pay a lot of attention. Until now.

Today as we rounded the corner from produce to breads, Michael whispered, “Look!”. And what to my wondering eyes should appear . . . holy mackerel! Where’s the camera? Right before my eyes was a lady bending over to get something off the bottom shelf. This lady was, how shall I put it?, plump. Okay, so what? So this: She had on a crotch-length skirt with the word “LOVE” across the rear and about 3 inches of crack showing. I am totally SERIOUS. I gave Michael a raised-eyebrows, questioning look—are you gonna do it? He shook his head.

COME ON! Perfection! We see her a few aisles down and again, she bends over! The devil on Michael’s shoulder (me) tells him to do it but he thinks better of it. And then it happens. She turns around. She, my friends, is no lady. This is a Lady-Man. A shadow of stubble from sideburn to sideburn. He pushes his cart past us to his girlfriend, who is bigger and taller than Michael. I’m so glad he didn’t take that picture. She would have seen the whole thing.

We began wondering how many times have photos on that site lead to coarse words or fists flyings? It’s bound to happen.

I come back to the “THIS IS SO MEAN” thing because let’s be clear, we’re making fun. I think you have to know you’re asking for it when you show up anywhere outside the confines of your home in a costume like that. But do I want to be the one laughing at them? No. Because honestly, it’s not so much funny as it is pitiful. And who wants to be pitied?

But back to the subject of BBQ: Do I make chocolate cupcakes or peach slump? Oh dear internet, who am I kidding? You know it’s BOTH.
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