Fear and Loathing in Wal-Mart

What was meant as a pit stop on my way to Wal-Mart Friday evening, ended up becoming a layover and severely enhancing my overall shopping experience. Well, enhancing may not be the most appropriate word. Maybe "bat shitting." Is "bat shitting" more appropriate?

I stopped at Dos to say hello to a friend and his family, and that’s all I meant to do: just sit down have some water and chit chat for a bit. Throw in my natural thirst for alcohol in that environment, some peer pressure from 2 adults and a 5 year old, and the several times I heard “I’m paying for it, so just fucking drink it!”; and I crumbled.

Next thing I know, it’s 3 or 4 big beers and 2 Jager bombs (on an empty stomach) later; and I’m on my way across town to do some grocery shopping at Wally World. ** Screw Big, Dumb American does not endorse drinking and driving, as that could totally cause the show to come to a sudden end. Unless Big, Dumb American goes to jail. That, we can work with.**

First off, a little editor’s note: they’ve been re-doing the ol’ Wally World quite a bit. Repainting the inside and outside, moving sections around, adding hardwood floors, the works. And I don’t like it. I don’t accept change very well, and messing with my Wally World weirds my shit out.

So I walk into Wally World all inebriated and ready to do some messed up grocery shopping (I had a very blurry list with me though). I start pushing my cart and immediately know that my internal Wally World GPS had been severely compromised. I am completely and utterly discombobulated. I think I shut down for a few seconds and I vaguely remember some lady asking me if I’m all right. God only knows what I answered with, but I carried on begrudgingly with the shopping.

I’ll skip the monotony of the actual shopping, and get to the retarded thing I did.

I became Australian.

I think I was cussing about them being out of something, and some how it came out in an Aussie accent. And I thought it was funny, so I continued to talk like that for the rest of the time I was there. Including to whoever was lucky enough to call me or be called by me.

I have no idea how authentic it sounded, but I’m willing to bet that it was probably like a Down Syndrome kid imitating Crocodile Dundee.

"No more retarded than the rest of us, mate!"

The rest of the trip is a blur, except for a sudden obsession with wanting to watch National Lampoon’s Vacation. Which I did.

And that was the highlight/lowlight of the weekend really.

By crikey!

D