Man I hate Wal-Mart

I hate Wal-Mart. I mean I can’t even stand to say the fucking name, so from now on I’ll refer to it as Wallyworld. Mostly because I hate to type hyphens.

So I`m at Wallyworld the other day getting something for the little one (formula or diapers or something) and I decide to head over to the electronics section to see who has a new CD out I can download I see Eminem has a new one out.

However you cannot buy an Eminem CD at Wallyworld. At least not an unedited version. ( Now, before I get started here, I need to send out a huge, WTF to Slim Shady for even allowing them (whoever the fuck THEY are) to even produce an edited version of his work. This proves yet again that it’s NOT about the art, it’s about the money, and you’re now no better than the rest of the overpaid asswipes.

Yet, I can’t buy an unedited version of his CD in Wallyworld. Nor can I purchase Maxim, Stuff, or FHM - all magazines that I enjoy and oogle every now and then. I realize that most places have already dropped the skin mags - Playboy, Penthouse, Hustler, etc., but the others are just fucking magazines with a few pin-up gals in there.

So while all ready pissed off I decided to do some more browsing in Wallyworld. I can buy a purse that looks like a pair of panties. I can buy a plastic moose that shits out fecally colored jelly beans. I can buy all kinds of greeting cards that feature pin-up girls AND guys. And I can even purchase movies that feature good old T&A.

It’s selective censorship, people. Plain and simple. Catering to all the parents out there that want someone else to do the work for them. Hey how about if for once you take responsibility yourself and actually do some parenting. If you don`t want your kids listening to offensive music don`t the CD. Cause now matter how they try the record industry can`t tell me that kids are too stupid to realize Buck Cherry say`s he`s too drunk to Fuck even though the word is missing from the song.

Next.

What the fuck is with the old folks who get hired to say Hello when I walk into the store? When I get into Wallyworld, I really, really want to just get in, get my shit, and get out, all while speaking to the fewest number of dumbfuck people possible. Come to think of it, this pretty much applies to anywhere Bob E. goes. In our local Wallyworld, the greeter is often this ancient, 105 year old woman on an oxygen tank. What do you say to these people? Dead yet? Sorry? Hello? All I know is that they are employed there, and the $6 an hour that Wallyworld pays them in an effort to appear to be a friendly store, only serves to make it so that I have to pay a fucking dollar for a roll of LifeSavers. I’d much rather have granny sitting at home doing bong hits on her Oxygen Tank, and get my LifeSavers at a reasonable price. Oh and WTF is up with all the Pins they wear??? Perhaps they are there to hold these old folks together like stitches after a surgery, or so focus on reading them instead of the person`s face that looks like it`s about ready to fall off.

Same shit goes for the dumbass who checks you as you leave the store. This little highligher-wielding, power-hungry sorry excuse for a human being degenerates could not possibly make an intelligent assessment of the weather outside, let alone glance at the receipt in my hand and determine whether or not I have, in fact, paid for all my purchases. It is simply not possible. Another worthless function in life. It’s an inconvenience for me, for I have already shoved the receipt into my pocket where I choose to put it…but again Wally wants to make those choices for me…so I may only choose to stuff that little piece of cheap thermo-print paper where I like once I am OUTSIDE the store. It’s frankly insulting to me, and SHOULD be insulting to Wallyworld’s cashiers as well. If they are not insinuating that all their CUSTOMERS out to rip them off, they are insinuating that their cashiers are dishonest and not ringing up all your purchases. Either that or they are too fucking stupid to swipe products across a UPC scanner and make change.
Actually, now that I think about it, maybe they have something there. I haven’t seen too many Nobel Prize Winners behind the cash register there.

NEXT

WHAT THE FUCK is it about the parking lot at Wallyworld? It’s like whenever anyone operating a motor vehicle (or even entering/exiting the store on foot) get within 15 feet of the store, they lose all common sense and forget how things work. Perhaps they never knew. Considering MOST of the people I’ve seen shopping at Wallyworld, that’s not a bad assumption.
But PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE, people….if someone is just STANDING in front of the store, and showing no intention of walking into the parking lot whatsoever, put your fucking FOOT on the GAS and move ON. Jesus!

It’s like a goddam Mexican Standoff, the blue-haired little old lady who can’t see over the fucking dashboard anyway versus the young pants-down-around-their-ass mob who just want to stand in front of the entrance doors and get their bee-bop on….probably because it’s the single-most likely place they will BE IN THE FUCKING WAY.

I swear to God I am gonna start carrying around a can of lighter fluid and a Bic to deal with those morons the next time I have to brush by their unwashed asses to get somewhere.
In all fairness, Wallyworld is no different when it comes to the assfucks who want to hold up progress and wait for that closer parking spot. That’s fine. But do so in a manner where I can buzz around you, go to the END of the parking aisle, and be in the store before your dumb ass has the blinker on your shitty 1973 Mercury turned off. As for the morons who hold up things at the front of the aisle waiting on that coveted handicapped spot when there are spots available just two slots down, since when did being stupid become a handicap shit obviously you don`t have a wheel chair otherwise you wouldn`t be driving and if it`s cause your are too fat to park and open your doors in a regular spot then park at the end where there is always lots of room. Cause you could obviously use the fucking walk.

So the next time you actually get to Wallyworld, take a look around, especially at the exit doors. You’ll see a whole hoard of mesmerized people looking down with a dumfounded look on their face, glancing down at their highlighted receipt, trying to decipher whether or not there’s a secret code to the scrawl on it. They’re moving forward hesitantly, as if they may need to run back inside and have it checked for them again. No fucking wonder.