There seems to be a direct inverse ratio between the perceived ‘low prices’ offered at a given store and the potential for bodily harm in said stores parking lot.
For example: Marshall Fields’not scary. Sam’s Wholes@le Club’scary. Barnes & Noble’not scary. W@lm@rt’enter at your own risk.
I went to Mallwart yesterday in search of a stretchy thing for my counted cross-stitch project. In my first attempt at entry, I actually got so pissed off that I drove away and ran other errands, hoping that the Packer game would empty the store at 3:00 o’clock (which it did’ women in Green Bay well know that Packer time is prime shopping opportunity). I returned later and was greeted by slightly less mayhem in their parking lot.
In the first place, MallWart tards do not know how to drive. The lines were painted on the pavement for a reason, people! Just because you’ve got a notion to pick yourself up a George Foreman grill doesn’t mean that you may ignore the lines in the parking lot. Also, is it really worth putting yourself and others in danger because you see a really good spot?
MallWart should probably just avoid those slanty parking lines that indicate ‘One Way’ lanes, because only a minority of people actually follows them. I encountered at least three rusty pieces of shyte cars going the wrong way down those lanes.
Always low prices, Always semi-evolved cretins in search of cheap plastic crap.
I managed to navigate through the store and find my stretchy cross-stitch thing, again swearing to never venture into the store again. That oath will last about six months, which is how long it takes for me to forget the throngs of unbathed humanity who prowl in Mallwarts aisles, usually wearing little blue smocks.
Dad’s working on our house again. He finished with the front door project (that was started and abandoned four years ago and only with my insistence was picked up again, thank you very much!). Now he’s working on our breezeway, some of which will eventually be turned into our kitchen. Honestly, I’ve never been one hundred percent behind the kitchen expansion project, but it goes forth nonetheless. I’m not complaining, though’ I love how Dad is so willing to do work on our house while we are both at work. Dad is great! Yay Dad!
If the kitchen ever reaches the EPA requirements of cleanliness for food preparation, I’ll make him cookies.
My butt still hurts.
