Comments on: Kissmyass Time http://www.wafwot.com/blog/2007/12/20/220 More bullshit from another asshole with a blog Thu, 05 Jan 2012 10:33:52 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 By: Ditech http://www.wafwot.com/blog/2007/12/20/220/comment-page-1#comment-3423 Ditech Thu, 24 Jan 2008 02:56:24 +0000 http://www.wafwot.com/blog/2007/12/20/220/#comment-3423 Wafwot i love your blog and I have to say, how is this for a rule: If you have a shopping cart (or FUCKING TWO) filled to the brim with your waterhead baby child(ren) and I have say Five or less items and there is no express lane open - LET ME GO AHEAD OF YOU! It is not going to stifle your progress as much as you are going to for me. Also, don't look at me like I'm the asshole because of this as well - you have an item (or fifteen) from every isle in the store - I have a gallon of milk (soy that is) and a snickers bar; how is that going to slow you down when you are paying for your truck load by CHECK AND FOOD STAMPS! Sorry I have been gone so long - working 6 days a week does take up a lot of your time. Wafwot i love your blog and I have to say, how is this for a rule:

If you have a shopping cart (or FUCKING TWO) filled to the brim with your waterhead baby child(ren) and I have say Five or less items and there is no express lane open – LET ME GO AHEAD OF YOU! It is not going to stifle your progress as much as you are going to for me. Also, don’t look at me like I’m the asshole because of this as well – you have an item (or fifteen) from every isle in the store – I have a gallon of milk (soy that is) and a snickers bar; how is that going to slow you down when you are paying for your truck load by CHECK AND FOOD STAMPS!
Sorry I have been gone so long – working 6 days a week does take up a lot of your time.

]]> By: Art http://www.wafwot.com/blog/2007/12/20/220/comment-page-1#comment-3407 Art Mon, 24 Dec 2007 16:10:44 +0000 http://www.wafwot.com/blog/2007/12/20/220/#comment-3407 Ah, remember when shopping was done only by attractive ladies in sundresses, pearl necklaces and high heels, nodding acknowledgment to one another as they politely passed by in aisles fully stocked and barely populated? Oh. That was in an episode of 'I Dream Of Jeannie'. Nevermind. They make the aisles just wide enough that if you obey the rules of the road, you have fairly good odds of passing each other. Going around? HA! Not even with one of those little gay shopping baskets carried downfield by a nimble anorexic dwarf. All I need is coffee creamer and a bag of Baken-ets Hot and Spicy Pork Rinds, and I'm stuck behind 17 people with mountains of groceries better bought in bulk at Costco and the fucking express checkout is closed. Dude, Wal-Mart isn't a place to shop, it's a place to acquire. It's The High Temple of Consumerism Corrupted, The Store of Satan, the Devil's Own Mega-Buck-Mega-Fuck, Symbol of Plenty And Abundance Gone Horribly Wrong, the Tim Bundy of Shopping! Humans (?) in sweatpants, pajama bottoms, and over-engineered house slippers that have mistaken Wal-Mart for their fucking living room. 'Who the fuck else is in my living room? I can park here and do anything I want! I can socialize in my living room, you bastards, and can wait your turn!' Some people think they're entertaining there or something. Got repeatedly bumped with a cart by an octogenarian hag at the Commissary once because I was apparently invading her Female Territory by my mere presence at the venue. WTF? I've learned to simply scowl slightly, stride with purpose and be as obviously determined as a five foot eight man can appear. Nine times out of ten, people move out of the way almost subconsciously. Once stuck in traffic, however, I go back to just being a short guy with a mean look and a cool coat. Doesn't work if your speed is, well, like zero. No momentum to impress the herd. On random days, we should loose maybe thirty angry and starving leopards and lock the fucking doors. And go shopping there the next day. It'll keep the big scared monkeys away for a little while, and give added work to the cleaning companies and their staff of hard-working illegal immigrants. Merry Christmas, Motherfuckers! - Art Ah, remember when shopping was done only by attractive ladies in sundresses, pearl necklaces and high heels, nodding acknowledgment to one another as they politely passed by in aisles fully stocked and barely populated?

Oh. That was in an episode of ‘I Dream Of Jeannie’. Nevermind.

They make the aisles just wide enough that if you obey the rules of the road, you have fairly good odds of passing each other. Going around? HA! Not even with one of those little gay shopping baskets carried downfield by a nimble anorexic dwarf. All I need is coffee creamer and a bag of Baken-ets Hot and Spicy Pork Rinds, and I’m stuck behind 17 people with mountains of groceries better bought in bulk at Costco and the fucking express checkout is closed.

Dude, Wal-Mart isn’t a place to shop, it’s a place to acquire. It’s The High Temple of Consumerism Corrupted, The Store of Satan, the Devil’s Own Mega-Buck-Mega-Fuck, Symbol of Plenty And Abundance Gone Horribly Wrong, the Tim Bundy of Shopping!

Humans (?) in sweatpants, pajama bottoms, and over-engineered house slippers that have mistaken Wal-Mart for their fucking living room.

‘Who the fuck else is in my living room? I can park here and do anything I want! I can socialize in my living room, you bastards, and can wait your turn!’ Some people think they’re entertaining there or something.

Got repeatedly bumped with a cart by an octogenarian hag at the Commissary once because I was apparently invading her Female Territory by my mere presence at the venue. WTF?

I’ve learned to simply scowl slightly, stride with purpose and be as obviously determined as a five foot eight man can appear. Nine times out of ten, people move out of the way almost subconsciously. Once stuck in traffic, however, I go back to just being a short guy with a mean look and a cool coat. Doesn’t work if your speed is, well, like zero. No momentum to impress the herd.

On random days, we should loose maybe thirty angry and starving leopards and lock the fucking doors. And go shopping there the next day.

It’ll keep the big scared monkeys away for a little while, and give added work to the cleaning companies and their staff of hard-working illegal immigrants.

Merry Christmas, Motherfuckers!

– Art

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