Tuesday

Why must I torture myself?

{Hi RHOK followers!
I'm a new RHOK writer so I wanted to give you a quick introduction. My darling hubby and I recently moved back to Oklahoma from Texas and I couldn't be happier--except my small town is slightly dull and boring (and because of my experiences with a certain grocery store that I'm complaining about below). I was an elementary teacher for several years and now I am blessed to be a SAHM and lovin' every minute of it! I enjoy watching football, drinking wine and relaxing in bubble baths....usually my own.  I also love to read books (only good ones) and catching up on juicy gossip with my BFF's in Hollywood thanks to my weekly subscription to Us Weekly.}

What is that one thing in life that you hate doing?  Mine is grocery shopping...especially at Wal-Mart. I have a slight hatred towards this horrid place of madness. I prefer the more expensive, yet smaller version across town. Originally I wasn't going to Wal-Mart at all but I needed groceries for my dinner party AND I needed a punch bowl for a family member's baby shower. I was already on that side of town and I figured since it was 1:30 on a Thursday that I could get in and out quickly. 


WHAT THE H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS WAS I 
THINKING?

The trip started out great! I found a somewhat close parking space next to a cart return (yay...no extra walkin' for me!). I'm thinking that this is a sign of great things to come. 

I was wrong. 


Oh so wrong.

I walked in to grab a cart. I thought I was going to fight Mrs. Old Lady with purple hair and bright red lipstick for trying to run me down with her cart. Apparently there was a sale back in the fabric department and I was in her way. 

Back off Old Lady. I got moves. 

Strike One.

Thanks to another great idea from my girl Jenny, I was looking for some rubber duckies to put in my blue punch for the baby shower that I was co-hosting. I arrived to the baby section and asked a nearby employee in my nicest fake voice if she knows where the ducks are. She tells me they "don't got none". I didn't believe her so I went and looked anyway. Guess what? They have TONS of little duckies in a variety of colors. I wanted to take my find and shove it up her lying azz. Did I mention I was P.M.S.ing? 

Strike Two.

As I'm making my way to find a punch bowl (the whole entire reason why I even WENT to freakinWal-Mart) I was spat at. Yes, you heard me correctly. A child was busy spitting at passerby's while his clueless Momma was talkin' on the phone, trying to decide what mirror she looked best in. My first instinct was to spit right back but I felt this would be immature and inappropriate (plus I thought they may be able to trace my DNA and come after me for something like "endangering a child via saliva"). I then felt compelled to yank his happy self out of that seat and spank his bum and then yell at his momma for not paying attention to her brat of a child but then I had a brief look at what her future held and I had a tad bit of sympathy for the poor girl. So I just stuck my tongue out at him and kept going. 

Guess what? Wal-Fart was out of punch bowls. SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!!!! 

Strike Three.

When I grocery shop, I always start at the back and work my way forward. Just as I approached aisle 55 (or whatever aisle is the furthest from the front) guess what? I had to use the bathroom. It was an emergency people! That bean burrito that I consumed very quickly just minutes before my arrival into Never Never Land was not settling very well in my tummy. This was very serious stuff ladies and gentlemen. Guess where the bathrooms are located? In the front.  Guess who was doing the poo run to the front of the store? *raising hand*

When I arrive in said bathroom full of disgust, the only stall open was the first one. Guess what?It didn't stay shut and had zero toilet paper which could have been a HUGE problem. I had to wait patiently (bum-clenched to be specific) and guess who came out of the stall first? FreakinMrs. Old Lady with purple hair and red lipstick! I almost shoved her into the wall as I passed by. 

Strike Four.

As I'm finishing up my grocery shopping, I came down an aisle with a mom and her 10 kids. This happens to me every flippin' time. At this point in my day, I had no energy left to battle with that hot mess of a family so I turn around and skip the aisle altogether. I go up the next aisle and just as I'm exiting, the family of 12 turns the corner and crashes into my basket. My eggs broke. Everywhere. Do I get an apology? No. Just a dirty look for being in her way. 

Strike Five.

I hate Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart can suck it. I'm done with it.

 ~Mrs. Coco~

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