Today was shop-o-thon 2012. Off to my least favored super-mart-o-rama. Why am I putting o's in words? Why do I keep shopping at that place? I do not know. I am helpless to resist the rant. Plus it's entertaining. At least, it's entertaining now and what other place provides so many amusing anecdotal material?
You'd think I'd learn, but no-o-thon. There are clues. Any place that someone has created a website about, called People at Walmart, is a place you SHOULD NOT shop at. Here is a photo of someone at this store who shouldn't have been allowed in public. The last time I tried to take a photo of someone at Walmart they looked like they would take out a switchblade and cut my throat so I decided I wouldn't take a photo.
|Courtesy of People of Walmart.|
Why not wear your jammies shopping? If it feels good, then do it.
Dr. Ruth had it right all along.
First up, it was in the section where they have Littlest Pet Shop animals and Barbies, so I was thinking, what the hell is it and why the hell is it in this section? It's got a little weird head that opens up like a flower and it looked kind of like one of those rotten eggs they sell at odd little corner shops in a district you don't stay after dark in. More importantly, it was...looking...at me. When I moved, its eyes followed me. I think it's cursed. Possibly by someone who thinks toys should stay with you forever. (I'm probably going to wake up in the middle of the night and it'll be sitting on the pillow next to me and HIM will be gone.) Really, who makes these weird toys? (Immediately a mental image of Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka popped into my head but Willy was all over the candy department, right? Not toys. Not that either one really matters. It's all grossbuckets. Normally I like Johnny Depp but that movie remake skieves me out.)
|If I woke up and this was staring at me people would hear me|
screaming on the West coast.
Above is a freaky new Ken doll. In a previous blog I mentioned Mattel's Ken-in-the-Closet doll. At the sight of this one, my thought was, "Who was so retarded that they dressed him in a checked shirt and a pink bow tie?" Either we have bizarre Justin Bieber dolls with plastic hard hat hair or we have Seriously-Flippin'-Nerd-Ken. (This one needs a pocket protector with a protractor or a woman dressed in leather who has him on a leash.) (If I brought a checked shirt home for HIM to wear he would probably take me to the doctor to see what was wrong with me. If I brought home a pink bow tie, then he would divorce me. Just sayin'.)
Onto the next one.
And more Barbie fun! I like picking on Barbie almost as much as I like picking on Walmart, HIM, and the stupid cat! (There's a few more on the Who-Shall-I-Pick-O-Thon-Next? list, but I didn't want the blog to read like War and Peace.)
What I'd like to know about the Spin-to-Clean Barbie is why the frick isn't Ken sitting his keister next to the the washing machine and dryer waiting on the clothes to be done? Doesn't Ken have to wash his nasty-ass clothes, too? No, he's got his bitch, Barbie, to do it. Look how happy she is to be waiting for the spin cycle to stop so she can get to work being Suzy Homemaker. See, girls in a nubile state of learning, you too can sit on your tushie, watching your soaps, washing your man's clothing while he earns the dollars. (This one irritated me.) (No, really?) (I have to stop blogging now to go do the laundry.)
|I did not have to put these two outstanding examples of Barbie madness|
next to each other on the shelf, because they were already next to
So to conclude my excursion to Dubya Land, another picture from the People of Walmart. Remember you can't make this stuff up.
|I had this exact same hairdo in 1987. Without the side burns.|