My Trip to Satan's Lair

GUTEN MORGEN!!!
(coincidentally, this is the only thing I remember from my high school German class, how pathetic is that?)

Today, I beg of you---PLEASE explain the mystery of Wal Mart, and the strange exhibits within it's walls that appear, at first glance, to be of human descent. 

Last night, I had a few friends over to have a little patio time.  I found myself in quite a conundrum.  One that almost resulted in my death, or the death of others.

I needed to pick up 3 things.  3.  THREE!  That is it.  Just three little things.  But here is where the whole thing went sour:
I needed two grocery items, AAAAAANNNNNNDDDDDD glasses.  No, not the kind you wear to see, and my God in Heaven, after going into that place, I would NEVER do anything to actually  intentionally improve my vision prior to walking through the automatic doors to Hell.

I found myself driving and actually having a battle with the voices in my head, trying to talk myself out of doing the sickening thing I was contemplating doing....going into The Dreaded Wal Mart.  I use this phrase as a title because it is, indeed, exactly what I call that place. 

I would rather go to the gynecologist than go to that place.  I will normally drive 20 minutes to the nearest Target to avoid going there.  And here I was, just an hour and a half from my friends arriving, and still in need of these 3 fricken items!!!

I found myself fighting with myself over the steering wheel (now that's a sight, I'm here to tell you).  I really, truly, considered going to Schnucks and praying they had glass wear there.  I mean, sometimes you see those cute little teflon coated pans that come in fun colors with polka dots on them, right?  They hang at the end of the tampon aisle for some strange reason, just a few items over from the laxatives and hemorrhoid cream.  I'm not super certain WHY they are there, or who is buying them...but yesterday, it was almost ME! 

I had this temptation to just go there, get my two grocery items, and then go over to the seasonal section with serving platters that look like a picnic blanket with ants crawling across them, and just pray that the good Lord would put some drinking glasses right there for me.  ANYTHING to avoid The Dreaded Wal Mart. 

Sigh...The next thought I had was of me going across town, going to Schnucks, and them NOT having drinking glasses.  Then I would be schlupping my kids across town trying to find said glasses, and now wasting even more time that I could be doing important stuff like mixing up margaritas!  I mean, come on, a girl has to have her priorities in check!

"Take one for the team," I heard that hag inside my head say.  I honest to God get bitchy from the time my tires hit the parking lot of that place.  I find myself disgruntled just parking and opening my door, and I feel like a preacher walking into a strip club as I cross the parking lot.  I feel like someone is going to see me going into that dump and then I will be labeled one of 'them'. 

So, we walked up to the automatic doors behind an older lady who was savoring the last loooooooonnnnnnngggggg puff off of her cigarette, which created a marvelous cloud of smoke for us to walk directly through.  It was sort of like being Criss Angel, emerging through a wall of smoke to begin a show like no other...except this show was gonna really suck, and I probably have lung cancer now.  As she put her cigarette into the complimentary ashtray at the door, she took a big ole swig of some kind of vitamin water that was in her other hand.  I found this ironic, and slightly counter intuitive, sort of like the people that eat for 3 hours at a buffet full of fried foods, but order a diet soda.
We entered the store with little other drama, grabbed a disgusting cart and went forth to conquer our 3 items.  Again, just in case you didn't remember, that was three items.
Item one got checked off of the list pretty quickly, as it was just inside of the door.  Limes.  CHECK!
Item two was margarita mix, which caused me to have to fight the herd of people that push their carts on what I consider to be the wrong side of the aisle, all the way to the back of the store.  Here I am with my 5 year old perched on the end of the cart, and every hong yong in this place is pushing their carts TOWARD me on my side of the aisle and I wanted to put a little shirt on his back that read, "Do you drive on the wrong side of the road, too?"  I kept thinking of the damage that could be done to his little cute organs if some old woman were to crash into him with her cart because she was distracted by a sale display of Metamucil....but we arrived safely at the alcohol aisle. 
There's something to be said for purchasing margarita mix with two kids with you.  It didn't have alcohol in it, but it still felt slightly wrong.  Of course, my fears subsided when I pushed my cart past the lady who appeared to be pregnant, with her other kid with her pushing the cart, while she loaded up a case of beer.  Who the Hell was I kidding, this was Wal Mart. 

We checked that one off of the list and made a sharp left to head toward the middle of this God forsaken store to try to hone in on the location of the glassware.  Of course, since this dump has everything under one roof, the kids got distracted by things like sunglasses and greeting cards on the way, and I felt myself beginning to itch and considered the idea that I may very well have hives covering my entire body at that very moment.  I simply wanted to get my three items and leave, never looking back, as I may be turned to a pillar of salt if I did. 

I found the glasses, located the best bargain in just under 30 seconds and loaded those dudes up.  'OMG, let's get out of here' I thought.  Until I realized I needed a pitcher for the margaritas.  You see where this is going now, don't you?  CRAP!  We found a cheap pitcher (everything is cheaper at Wal Mart, right?  That's what the smily face guy on the sign implies) and began to make our journey toward the registers. 

SNAP!  I forgot I was gonna grab a pizza (OMG, this is a whole different source of stress for me, as an organic family....don't even get me started, we will tackle this another day) for the kids and hubby since I didn't wanna trash the kitchen I just cleaned by cooking. 

We make our way back to the other side of the universe, again somehow traveling into oncoming traffic that was on the wrong side of the aisle.  We passed a lady and her husband who thought that the middle of the damn main aisle was a good place to stop and count the shit in their cart, and a man with his kid who stood right in the way and I had to navigate past his scrawny son's tiny butt as I squeezed my cart, 5 year old still mounted like a hood ornament on the front, between the kid and a rack of pizza pans.  All of this, to be in the wrong damned aisle.  Turn around, wheels of the cart doing that hop thing that they do when you have a kid on the end of the cart, and go back past the dipshit that is standing with his kid in the middle of the aisle again.  Sweet.  This is awesome.  At this point, the itch has crept up my neck and I am not sure if I have hives or have actually caught something off of this cart.  We make a right and head toward the next aisle, and turn swiftly into the aisle only to discover that, BAZINGA, wrong fricken aisle again.  It was at this moment that I turned into the whiny kid in the store that other mothers want to beat.  I actually whined, out loud, to my 10 year old daughter, 'OMG, this is the wrong aisle again.  I just want to go home....I don't want to do this anymore!' 
Yep, we were closing in on a dangerous moment.  I was within seconds of the actual meltdown.  I could feel it coming on like a bladder infection.  It was headed straight for me, and I didn't have any antibiotics to fight it off!
Back out to the main aisle, (hop, hop, hop goes the wheels again) and go over one more aisle.  At this point, we found the damned pizza and I wished there was a man dressed in a tux handing out wine samples in the aisle because I needed something to take the edge off!  Thought I was gonna get a reasonably healthy pizza, or maybe an organic one...DUH, this is Wal Mart, I forgot!  Instead, we ended up with something that I am confident was full of crap I would never, on a clear-headed day, have fed my kids.  But, I found myself in a compromised state and grabbed the one they picked out and began to run toward the door.  I could hear the theme to St Elmo's Fire as I made my way through the crowds toward the check out counter.  I stood in line as patiently as I could, and unloaded my now 5 items onto the counter. 
It was then that I heard a lady behind me have the nerve to say, "Excuse me, ma'am, you're holding up the line."  Thankfully, I turned around to see someone I actually knew.  She was a normal human being, much unlike all of the other inhabitants of this foreign land, and when she smiled, she had all of her teeth.  I am confident that my left eye was now twitching and I may have looked like I had had a stroke.  I looked at her, right in front of the cashier and all of the other people behind me in line, and announced rather loudly, "Listen here, lady.  I absolutely hate this place, and if you screw with me, I may just CUT you right here!"  I, of course, was kidding.  Sort of.  It occurred to me that I had just said that in front of a bunch of people who probably love this dump, and for a split second I almost felt bad for confessing my absolute loathing of this facility.  I was relieved to look up and see the cashier laughing. 
We got out without further incident, until we got stuck behind a man with a bleach blond mullet wearing a wife beater.  Yep, I'm serious.  He was shopping with what appeared to be his mother, but could have been his lover, or could have been all of the above...  They savored the final victory walk as they exited the store, leaving me stuck behind them trying not to be a hag and pass them and race them to the damned double doors. 
We got to the car, unloaded our stuff, and I went to return my cart to the cart depot, just to find myself walking toward bleach blonde mullet guy head on.  My body shuddered as I looked up and saw that either he was missing an eyeball, or he was winking at me. His sunburned skin shown through his wifebeater, his leathery face all squinty in the sun.  A breeze blew his Hulk Hogan colored locks across his shoulders, and it was like a Fabio book cover, but in the discount bin at the Dollar Tree.  Or a slightly irregular shirt that has an off-centered neck hole and only one sleeve.

 I felt the vomit come up into my mouth, and tried to shake off the experience and run swiftly to my car to lock the doors.  I had escaped with my life.  I had seen death, and stared it square in the eyes and lived to tell about it.  I was a survivor.

I rushed home to unload my 5 items and quickly eliminate the shopping bags that bore the name of the store that I despised.  I considered burning them to destroy all evidence of my trip.  I was torn between destroying them, and weaving them together and hanging them like a flag from my porch as a sign of victory.  I had gone to the depths of Hell, and lived to tell the tale.

So, what I want from you is this.  A tidbit of knowledge.  A morsel of explanation.  WHY does anyone go to that place?  Is it truly THAT much cheaper?  I just cannot explain this.  I realize you can buy toilet paper, dog food, raw meat and fertilizer....AND get a prescription filled all under one roof.  But, truly, is it worth the soap that you go through trying to scrub the Wal Mart off of yourself when you get home?

Please...please....please explain this to me.  Loyal Wal Mart-ians.  Where art thou?  Perhaps there is a secret I know not of.  Share with me the secret of thine affliction that causes thou to do such self-harm!

Seriously.  Fess up people.  WTH?  How do you do this on a regular basis?  Don't lie.  God is watching....