Yes, that is a direct quote.
From yours truly, circa June 2008, actually.
It was one of those sentences that sounded perfectly normal in my head, but as soon as the words left my lips, everyone was on the floor laughing. I think one individual may have even peed their pants.
We were living in Syracuse at the time and enjoying a lazy Sunday evening at a friend’s house. Scott wanted to have one last beer, while I was pleading that we forgo the beverage and hit up Wal-Mart instead.
You see, I had been looking everywhere for a pair of royal blue shorts to wear in the opening number of a beauty pageant I was competing in. Wal-Mart was my last hope.
Yes, I was in a married women’s beauty pageant. But that’s an entirely different blog post. Actually, it’s an entirely different blog altogether. Let’s just say there’s a whole lot of crazy in the deep, dark underworld of grown women’s pageants.
And yes, Wal-Mart had the shorts, in case you were wondering.
I’d actually never been inside a Wal-Mart until I was in college. Not because I came from a snooty family who was “too good” for the land of the roll-back smiley face. Quite the opposite, in fact. There simply wasn’t a Wal-Mart store within thirty minutes of our home, so we chose to frequent the conveniently located neighborhood Kmart.
I’d argue that Kmart is significantly worse than Wal-Mart. But that’s probably because I’ve been spending too much time on the husband’s Twitter feed.
Also, I always thought Wal-Mart was a boy?
Regardless of its gender, I love me some Wal-Mart and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
I mean…you could head inside to purchase a platter of boneless buffalo chicken tenders that you might enjoy…oh, I don’t know…as a reward for surviving the swimsuit portion of the crazy pageant you were just in?
This is totally hypothetical, by the way.
Suddenly, you realize you need to get your nails done…so you pop on over to the in-store salon for a quick mani/pedi.
As you’re leaving the store, you begin to feel guilty about the mammoth plate of chicken tenders. This is quite the predicament…you’ve already bought the tenders…it’s not like you can exchange them, right? You choose to do the next best thing and pick up some free weights, resistance bands and a couple of exercises DVDs to undo the calories you’re about to ingest.
(P.S. Wal-Mart will actually let you take anything back. Like, even a pregnancy test. Not that I’d know or anything.)
You also decide pick up some Pepto-Bismol and Tums, just in case the chicken tenders don’t agree with you.
And oh, what the heck? That adorable pink cheetah-print dress is only $5 and will look totally cute on your chihuahua!
Three days later, when the infection you attained during you’re bargain manicure is so bad you’ve been prescribed a heavy dose of antibiotics, you’ll return to Walmart’s convenient 24-hour pharmacy in order to keep the MRSA from spreading to your joints.
It is truly one-stop shopping.
In college, my friend Katie often talked of plans to write and compose “Wal-Mart: The Musical”.
It may just be one of the best ideas I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing. The costumes alone would be spectacular. I’d also hope that the opening number would feature actual Wal-Mart greeters.
For authenticity purposes.
Anyway, when Scott announced upon moving to Small Town we would be doing our grocery shopping at Wal-Mart, I was elated. I mean, have you seen their candle aisle? It looks like a candy aisle! (And technically, candy is a grocery.)
But seriously…we needed groceries. The fridge in our new condo was pretty sparse.
So we set out on our first Wally World shopping spree in nearly three years. I was so excited, I even snapped photos to document the momentous occasion.
After two glorious hours in the kingdom of American consumerism, our fridge now looks like this:
We also have a fully stocked pantry and freezer.
For $230. What now, Whole Foods?
I also may have picked up a few candles. I mean…they’re only five dollars! And they have spiced vanilla and toasted hazelnut!
Scott thinks the candles are ridiculous. He’s stated many times that my idea of “cleaning” is shoving everything into a closet and then lighting a candle.
I’m sorry…but isn’t that the very definition of cleaning?
Apparently not. According to Scott, the act of “cleaning” looks more like this.
The above photo illustrates a man who is kind enough to remove the hot candle wax his wife spilled all over their carpet earlier that afternoon. Their freshly shampooed carpet in their brand new condo.
A quick Google search revealed that covering the wax with a paper towel and lightly running over it with a warm iron soaks the wax right up. Phew!
Unfortunately, we didn’t happen to have any paper towels on hand.
Luckily, I happened to know just the place to pick some up.
“Sober up. We’re going to Wal-Mart!”
(I agreed to steer clear of the candle aisle.)
(But only this once.)