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Monday, March 5, 2012

More Shopping at Wally World OR More Blathering About Shopping at Wally World OR Oh, What the Hell You've Got Nothing Better to Read Right Now

Warning:  This blog has reached a level of causticity not normally obtained.  My mother-in-law would be proud of me.

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.
So we went.  We shopped.  Cressy looked avidly about, waiting for the part where she would get to look at...toys!  Toys!  Toys!  She would bath in toys if she thought it would make her clean.  But first we had to get food and stuff.  Icky vegetables and lots of tea bags for me.  Hey, we found a bottle of pickled cactus.  (I don't have to make stuff up.  It really happens and I have photographic proof!)
There was a whole rack of this, like it was really special
and we were utter idiots for missing out.
I think I need to go back and buy some.
Cressy COULD NOT believe this was
really cactus.  She thought I was pulling her leg until
I pointed out the picture on the bottom.  (If there's a picture of it on the bottle
it means that's whats in the bottle.)  See, Mommy doesn't
joke about everything.  Just mostly everything.
Unfortunately, I couldn't find any more amusing food stuff to take pictures of, so off to the toy section we went, where I did find stuff to amuse me.  Having blogged about various toys before in the Mighty W you'd think I'd exhausted that avenue, but no-o-not.  I found new stuff to blather about.

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.
But I'm not done-o-not, because obviously I hadn't gotten to look at the Barbies yet.  The Barbie World has sucked my only child in and is working on dissolving her little brain into strange little bits of obsessive-compulsive shopping matter.  ("Buy Barbies NOW!  You're a moron-o-nator if you don't have 25,000 Barbies.  Do you have the Toilet-flushing Barbie?  Why the hell not?")  In fact, Mattel has specially made more Barbies for her that she hasn't yet obtained and SHE MUST HAVE THEM...NOW.

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.
I'm not sure if my Droid captured the essence of this one.  She's supposed to be like, all Hollywood, and maybe so, but she looks like I'm-off-to-be-a-Concubine-Girl with the see through outfit.  I'm surprised Mattel didn't provide double-sided tape for the breast area and maybe extra tape so your budding Harem girl could practice with it, too.  After all, we can't have our boobies popping out at the wrong time when wearing outfits that are less than, shall we say, supportive?

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
each other.
Finally more Mattel selected bigotry.  Last time it was the Caregiver Barbie and the Babysitter Barbie, the only difference of which was the color of the skin of the Barbies and the less than titular titles.  (I'll leave the rest to your imaginations.)  (I had to go and make certain I was using the word, titular, accurately.  Then I found there was all these other words with tit in it.  Titoism, tittling, titmouse, and titration that I didn't make up.  The dictionary amuses me.)  This time we have Barbie Art Teacher and Barbie Pancake Chef.  And look, OMG, the pancakes actually flip.  You too can show your budding offspring how to make money flipping pancakes while the other Barbie gets to lay back and...I'm shutting my mouth now while I'm behind.  But you have to see Barbie Pancake Chef has her child there with her in the kitchen because her man ran off with another woman and she can't afford daycare because she's working at that stupid, minimum wage paying job.  I'll stop now.

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.
I'm probably going to be banned from Walmart soon, so what the bleep?

2 comments:

Jerrilynn Atherton said...

Love it!!!!

Jenn O. said...

Brav-o .....hahaha couldn't resist