* * * And now I’m back from Sam’s. Thank god I will NEVER have to go to that side of Huntsville again. They’re ripping up the roads, so that was a mess, there was a car accident making me have to detour out of the way into a fairly scary neighborhood, and they’re actually remodeling Sam’s – I assume it’s remodeling, there were jackhammers all over the place in every part of the store – so that was a huge pain in the ass. I ensured for myself a spot in Hell by repeatedly yelling (or at least thinking loudly) the name of Our Lord and Savior complete with His little-known middle name (no, not “Harold”), which starts with “F” and ends with “ucking.” Yep. I believe there’s a seat in the ass-singe section with my name on it. I also sighed and rolled my eyes so often that I’m surprised I didn’t hyperventilate and/or get dizzy. I just get impatient when people STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING AISLE AND DON’T GET THEIR ASS OUT OF MY WAY. I mean, godalmighty, how hard is it to park your stupid-ass cart to the SIDE of the aisle? One would think by the age of 83 you’d have perfected that. I’d like to think that the new Sam’s (One more week! Whee!) will attract a younger, savvier crowd (say, mid-50s with the ability to move faster than .00578 miles per hour), but I’m not holding my breath. The old folks love to buy their 45 gallon containers of Tide, and who can blame them? (Seriously. I bought a 40 oz. bag of whole almonds for less than $6. You get a tenth that many almonds for the same price at the grocery store!) I didn’t let myself get suckered in by the 18-pack of Skinny Cows, but don’t think I wasn’t tempted.
