...than go to WallyWorld on a Saturday afternoon. Come to think of it, I'd rather put my own eyes out with rusty nails than go to WallyWorld period.
And yet there I was, playing "nomads of the asphalt prairie" across the Turkey Creek mega shop-o-rama complex, rubbing shoulders with a seething mass of aberrant humanity, all because I needed plastic cement, greeting cards, sodas, and crackers, plus I needed to do some banking. That, and WallyWorld is right across the street from Turkey Creek Wine & Spirits, who seem to be doing better than McScrooge's at getting products from Stone Brewing these days.
Anyway, an observation I made: There came a time in my life when I crossed a certain threshold of age and muscle tone and said to myself "Self, our navel will not be seen in public like this." It was painfully obvious today that not everyone has had that bit of internal dialogue. Further, I didn't know that they even made hip-huggers in that size. With something intended to be sassy printed across the ass, no less. Worse, the letters were in yellow against the blue denim background and before my forebrain could parse what they actually spelled out, the snark crouching in the dark recesses of my skull whispered "Goodyear," causing me to burst out laughing at a rather inopportune moment. I hate it when that happens.
Anyhow, I made it out okay and if I'm lucky, I won't have to drive through Turkey Creek on a weekend again 'til early '08.