Why I hate WalMart

I have a lot of reasons, and the worst thing is that it pretty much does not matter, because it is what we have and thus, you have to go there.

I could make at least a top 10 list of reasons why I hate that place.

Today's reason came about because Barry said he needs some condiments because he is getting ready to start working out of town, I think in Kentucky (who really knows, he changes the story a lot, he probably cannot remember himself). Why does he need condiments, you ask? For some reason, he calls soap, shampoo, razors--things you put in a toiletry bag (so most people call them toiletries)--"condiments". It is a little odd.

So we had our Sunday brunch and went to WalMart. I had heard that they were remodeling, which seems absurd to me since it is not even 1o years old, I bet.

They moved EVERYTHING! There were friggin dishes where the toys are supposed to be. It is bad enough that I have to follow a pattern in there or I miss things I was supposed to get, but even the pattern would not save me today. There were books by the yarn and when I told Barry that this was causing me too much stress, I heard a lady yell "amen" from behind a bunch of boxes.

I never did find the potato chips, which is probably good as it always sets me off into a fit that they got me hooked on Reduced Fat Ruffles such that I cannot tolerate any other kinds, and then quit carrying the stupid things. Kroger did the same thing, and I am not over it yet, as I am reminded of it every time I go to the store and feel compelled to look even though I know they are not there. That is just the kind of person I am, I will not give up on something once I am stuck on it, even if that thing makes me need even more therapy than I already need.

Do they not think of these things? I mean come on, if they can make a new flavor of Doritos every day of the week and some with more than one flavor in the bag, why do the quit me on the Reduced Fat Ruffles? We have put people on the moon for God's sake, keeping me in the right Ruffles ought to be easy.

For all I know, they brought them back and are hiding them in the boy's panties.

And crap this makes me realize that I forgot to buy a thumb drive to send pics to Amy B as clearly my DVD recorder is smarter than me and my pride in getting her a disk of vacation pics was misplaced as they ended up as a stupid video and not pics at all.

Dear God, this means I have to go back to WalMart