As The Full Moon Is To Werewolves, Wal-Mart Is To Fancy Pants

My good friend, Scott, recently sent me the documentary, "Wal-Mart, The High Cost Of Low Price". I already knew that Wal-Mart was evil, ruined communities, and that I hated them. Unfortunately, my laziness always won out. Where else are you going to go to buy a pontoon, a christening gown, Kraft Mac n' Cheeze, and ammo? Well, after viewing the documentary, I vowed to never return.

Yesterday, I was forced to break that promise. We needed an oil change, and they are the only place that will do them after 5:30 (Eric gets off work at 5:30). I also needed sugar, school supplies, and a USB cable. I was tired from a 10 hour day at work, and didn't want to visit multiple stores. I can tell you that it was the single worst shopping experience of my life.

Fancy Pants, my bitchy alter-ego, has some notes to share about the experience. Be warned, she has a foul mouth and inner-rage. Fancy Pants?

FUCK WAL-MART! Don't you ever make me go there again, or I fucking swear I will jab one of our eyes out. I am not fucking around. That being said, I wrote letters to the ass-clowns I had to rub elbows with in that stinking shit-hole.

Dear morbidly obese man on the limited mobility scooter,
Hey fat-ass, how is it possible for you to shove french fries in your mouth, shout into your cell phone, and try to run me over on your Rascal? If you're such a multi-tasker, why don't you get your big ass to a gym? You could run and lift weights while doing jumping jacks. Also, I would like to mention that it is very rude to make me look at your ginormous fucking belly. You're in Wal-mart, and they sell sizes up to XXXXL. You could probably get yourself a Big Dawgs t-shirt that would cover that shit for $.97. I hate you, Jabba the Hut.

Dear giggling teenage sluts,
Is Wal-Mart the hot new playground for elite hookers in training? I do not need to see your ass-cheeks. It is not attractive, and Jabba the Hut was probably staring. Does it make you feel good to know that he will be thinking of you tonight when he jerks it? I didn't think so. Cover yourself, you dirty fucking tramps.

Dear family with 6 children,
I realize that you have a large family, but is it necessary for you to fan out across an aisle, making it impossible for me to access a pair of scissors? What the fuck is so confusing about single subject spirals that the 8 of you had to confer on them for FIVE minutes? Did you know I hit you with my buggy all those times on purpose? Well I did. Fuck you. And especially fuck your youngest child that attempted to hang off the shelves like a monkey. I hoped he would fall, and was disappointed when he didn't.

Dear conversation shouter,
I would like to thank you for shouting the following thing..."So's then I tole that bitch, bitch you ain't movin' in ta ma trailer. There ain't enough room, an' yer nasty an' shit"...it was the highlight of my trip

Dear idiot working the automotive department,
If I run into you in the tiny town we share, I hope I'm wearing my combat boots. I am going to kick you in the vagina as hard as I possibly can, and I want it to hurt.
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Thanks Fancy Pants. I feel so much better now that you got that poison out for us.