Man, has it been a while since I posted anything substantial! You know why that is? Because I don’t like you. Okay, that’s not true; some of you are okay, and you know who you are. The rest of you smell faintly of prunes.
This morning I had serious sticker shock at the gas station; I paid $45.94 to fill my tank. Admittedly, I drive a massive pickup truck and I bought almost 22 gallons, but damn. I remember once watching my grandfather pay less than that to fill up his RV. $45.94. That’s a video game at Walmart, people. Or if you don’t care for video games, it’s like 2 DVDs and a pair of really cute sandals. Or if you’re not white trash and therefore don’t shop at Walmart, it’s like half a shirt at J. Crew. (Of course, most of the ladies’ tops at J. Crew only have half the material of a real shirt anyway.)
More on Walmart later, the idiots.
Also at the gas station, I witnessed something truly terrifying. A scary middle-aged woman drove in in a little old Chevrolet of some kind, like a 94 Nova or something like that. The gas cap on this particular model was on the left side, meaning she had to park on the RIGHT side of the pump. (Sorry, I have to assume most of my readers aren’t too bright, else they’d be reading Gene Weingarten or The Daily Sun or something.) However, all the right-side-of-the-pumps spots were taken. What to do, what to DO?
Here are what I consider to be valid options:
- Back into a spot on the left side.
- Drive around the service station and pull in from the other side.
Middle-aged-scary-lady, of course, went with option 3: just sit and wait until one of us cleared out of the way. Many of you are probably thinking, “So what? She didn’t want to back in.” You’re all missing the point, which is this: there is a woman driving on the public roads who is a bad enough driver that she’s afraid to back into a parking spot next to a gasoline pump. And worse, she KNOWS she’s a bad driver and still goes out on 273 every morning to get to work. And people wonder why I usually just sleep until rush hour is over, and then work from home.
I guess she scares no one but me, then. Moving on:
Last night I was busy mowing the lawn, fixing cars, doing manly man type work around the house, mainly so I could avoid having to clean. Sarah went to Walmart to pick up a few things, so I asked her for the following:
- Some new cargo shorts
- A grill cover
- Some good hangers for my suits and sport coats
- Mulch
At Walmart, a massive store that you would think would have everything you could possibly desire, my wife was able to find:
- Some cheapass hangers that will not suffice, as they are little better than wire, and cause my jackets to look like they were costume components from some horror flick entitled “The Wrinkling.”
What the hell, Walmart? You are the Super-Store of Super-Storedom. I can understand not having mulch, perhaps, but a grill cover? You have an acre of stupid outdoor crap that nobody over the poverty line would buy, and not one cheap vinyl tarp to throw over my poor rusty grill? And no decent hangers? Well, I take that back. I think Hearnwife said they had some nice wooden hangers, but they wanted $4 a pop! I could just make my own, thanks, whittling them in my copious spare time.
Apparently all the shorts they had were nasty elastic-banded jaunpieces, and that’s just completely unacceptable. I’ve just spent six months losing 30 pounds so I don’t have to wear elastic fat-boy pants, and I’ll be damned if The New Svelte Hearn is going back to that stretchy hell.
Walmart, I’ve been coming to you for my fashion for years. Only recently have I begun to stray in favor of quality, more expensive stuff. But you know I keep coming back! Right now I’m wearing those cool black moccasins I bought that one time! I would never betray our love!
I guess I’m saying: please restock your grill cover collection. Ideally something in a nice blue to match my siding.
