Pro Tips: Guide To Surviving a Trip To ‘Large Retailer’
Times are tough. People all over America warm themselves nightly with fires started with the deeds to their homes or the stocks that they planned to save for their retirement. Someone, somewhere, at this very moment, is skinning little Johnny’s pet rabbit so that the family can once again eat a meal that doesn’t involve Pop Tarts.
In times like these, you need to save money however you can. In most cases, there is an inverse relationship between the amount of money saved and the pleasantness of your shopping experience; that is to say that if you’re saving a lot of money – chances are that you won’t have fun doing it. I’ve prepared a graph of this relationship (below).
Shopping for your groceries at ‘Large Retailer’ will provide you with such an opportunity. If you plan ahead and keep a few things in mind, you’ll survive. Many of these rules are similar to the Pro Tips Guide To Surviving A Zombie Apocalypse.
1. The people that you will encounter are unlike any you’ve ever seen before. This rule is negated and the passage about it can be skipped if you grew up in a trailer park.
The average ‘Large Retailer’ shopper has the IQ of a Dixie cup. They will understand nothing that doesn’t involve chewing tobacco, Nascar, or Toby Keith. Try to learn a little about each before going so that you’re prepared if the worst happens and you need to communicate with one of them.
For instance:
You can’t get your cart through the aisle because Jimbo is bent over, with his ass hanging out, reading a magazine. You could say:
“Excuse me, sir. May I pass?”
This will be ignored. Instead, you must say something like:
“Hey there, good buddy. I’m going to leave some of my paint on your fender if I try to pass you on the right.”
It may not be completely “in dialect,” but it should be close enough to get him to slide his cart to the side so that you can pass.
2. When you arrive at ‘Large Retailer’, park across the street.
It may seem counter-intuitive, but parking across the street will actually save you a lot of time. Seemingly apropos of item number one, the parking lots at ‘Large Retailer’ are designed by chimpanzees with methamphetamine problems. The upper management of ‘Large Retailer’ love irony. All of the lanes are usually arranged at odd angles that make turning in and out of them even more difficult. This compounds the problems that arise from the facts that ‘Large Retailer’ is always busy and that the people that shop there are retarded (see number one). It can become quite congested. With a little planning at the outset, and a spot across the street, you can save yourself time and irritation.
3. Bring an MP3 player and headphones.
I would’ve said ‘bring your iPod’, but I know that many of the self-congratulatory assholes that use MP3 players that aren’t iPods are quite proud of themselves. Way to go douche, you found the one that Altec Lansing (or whatever) puts out. Anyway …
The MP3 player is essential. You have no idea now, but you’ll thank me as soon as you get there. As I stated in point number one, you do not want to communicate with these people. The headphones will allow you to pass off grunting for language; conversations with these people aren’t all that different from grunting anyhow.
Also, you won’t have to hear their conversations. I forgot my headphones once. I’ll never get those ten IQ points back. Taking this simple step will allow you to avoid all of the inanity and ridiculousness of the average shopper. You’ll even avoid hearing the sound of the trash beating their children; you’ll still see it, but it’s not like you can blind yourself (though that would help) so I guess you’re stuck with that.
4. Make yourself a scary shirt.
Now, this is an important one. It must be grungy and homemade. It must point out to everyone around you that you are not to be trifled with. These cretins feed on fear. You must show none. You must make them afraid of you. You must make it look like you’ve painted on a wall in a pregnant woman’s blood before. This is the most important thing that you need to do. There’s no other way. They will take advantage of you if you do not do this. You want the last box of Fruit Roll-ups? Tough shit, Cletus is taking it. And what are you going to do about it? Exactly.
I’ve included some shots of my scary shirt (below).
This is the front:
This is the back:
5. Wear comfortable shoes.
You’re going to spend a lot of time standing around, whether it be in the aisles or while waiting to checkout. It’s necessary to avoid blisters at all costs. It’s bad enough to have to deal with shopping at ‘Large Retailer’ without them.
DO NOT WEAR FLIP FLOPS OR CROCS. They will think that you’re one of them. This will encourage conversation and you do not want that. You know nothing of septic tanks or sister-fucking so it can only end in disaster.
6. Wear a backpack.
It seems like you wouldn’t want to carry anything on your back. You’d think it would make your experience less pleasant. What it actually will do is serve to form a buffer for you. It’s going to be crowded. Space will be at a premium. A backpack will guarantee you a bit more personal space as you travel down the aisles.
You can avoid the back pain that comes with carrying a heavy load by packing the backpack full of Styrofoam. This will give you the minimum amount of weight for the space. Like my uncle Scrooge McDuck used to say: ‘work smarter, not harder.’
7. Learn to scowl like a mentally ill person.
Like I’ve pointed out previously (see number four), the average ‘Large Retailer’ shopper feeds on fear. You must develop a look that tells them that you are the kind of person that has drawn a picture in feces before. It is also critical that you learn to hold the look for long periods of time.
Also, make sure that you run it by at least one or two of your friends. It is imperative that these are friends that you can trust to tell you the truth. If they lie to you because they think it’s funny, that’s not going to help. This look should scare the shit out of your friends. If it doesn’t, you aren’t ready yet. It’s time for more practice, practice, practice.
8. Carry a concealed weapon (Texas only)
It may come down to combat. This is just an avoidable fact of life when you decide to shop at ‘Large Retailer’. If you’re shopping at a ‘Large Retailer’ location in Texas, make sure to bring a concealed weapon. A pistol is ideal, but a large knife will work if you’re not a gun person. While it is legal in Texas to carry a rocket launcher or an axe, the management of ‘Large Retailer’ will not allow you to bring one in unless you’re buying a television that is larger than fifty inches.
Just know, and make sure that you’re able to cut a bitch if you have to. Shopping there may come to that. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “I’m not a violent person. This doesn’t apply to me.” I used to think that as well. Four years later, I wear an ear necklace made entirely from ears I took in skirmishes at ‘Large Retailer’.
In conclusion, shopping at ‘Large Retailer’ can save you some money in this tough economic climate. You must keep some things in mind though. The most important thing to remember is that you’re going to have to plan and consider the differences that you have with the others that you come across.
Good Luck!
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Soul For Sale, Priced To Move
This advertisement is for one gently-used, tenderly-loved soul. It’s been through a number of relatively short term leases to this point, and I feel as though it’s time for a permanent owner. It’s a bit blackened around the edges, but otherwise presents as a genuinely new fresh-out-of-the-box soul. Unforunately, I can’t provide photos at the moment because my camera is broken. Trust me though, it’s nere-cherry.
I expect this to garner a lot of interest so get your offer in today. All offers will be subject to credit check or request for cash up front.
Please email offers and questions to oscarmonteforte@gmail.com.
Please no nude photos. I’m disinterested in barter.
Must be a non-smoker.
Marlboro Nights
I’m sitting in my room on the fifth floor of the Best Western in Marlboro, Massachusetts. Aside from waiting for tomorrow, I’m trying to amuse myself by thinking of better names for a city than Marlboro. So far, my answer is: everything but Blumpkinville, which incidentally is in Arkansas. I’m ready to declare that this is not, in fact, flavor country.
I’m really only doing this to avoid being disturbed by my room. It has this if Amityville were a trailer park appeal to it that I uh … just can’t abide.
I was a little scared coming into this. I made my reservation myself so I knew I’d be here. “But”, I thought, “how bad could it be?” I remember staying in places that were $30 a night back in my younger days. “You’re acting like a douche”, I told myself, “it’s the Best Western in Marlboro, it’s not like it’s the Super 8 in Kabul.” So I was going to buck up and make a go of it. “Don’t be so bourgeois”, I said to myself. I always book my travel in a beret.
As I went to the hotel tonight, I felt a mixture of emotions: fear, embarrassment, trepidation. I was twitching ever so slightly. I was happy to realize that it was a convention center. For some reason, this made me feel like it had to be a bit better than the average Best Western. I’m not sure if the Lord works in mysterious ways, but I know that my mind does.
I parked my car feeling a bit better about my prospects. I walked up to the door and I was excited to see that they had a rotating door. Somehow, the rotating door confirmed my feeling that this might, just might be not horrible. Nutty. Like I said.
I noticed the fountain as I entered the lobby. Now I was excited. I was right, you see, it has a fountain and (holy fuck) a bar. I was right about that convention center thing. I checked in at the front desk and it took less than ninety seconds. By this point, I’d already mentally booked Best Westerns for all of my future business travel.
Then one really minor thing happened. This is going to sound horrible, but fuck you, I travel a lot so I get to be a baby about one thing. I made one single request: a room on a lower level. My room was on the fifth floor. “SO WHAT”, I thought. “Who cares? This place has a fountain, and it’s a convention center. Fucking hell, they even have a bar.”
So I take the elevator upstairs. At this point, I’ve let the floor thing go. I’m happy, all is right with the world. I open the door to the room. I don’t want to say that it stunk, but it has an odor. It’s not quite Bea Arthur’s vagina, but it might be Sally Field’s. “OK”, I think, “it’s just a tiny odor. Who cares?” As it turns out, I do.
After the odor, the second thing that I notice is that the bed is practically on the floor. There are hotels where you don’t need a ladder to climb into bed? Apparently so.
The bathroom floor is green tile. The tiles are all faded and cracked. Frankly, this reminds me of all of the other people that have stood there bare-footed. I really don’t want to think about this.
Then I notice that the television buttons are all worn back to black. Immediately, the mental image I get is of some semi-homeless, toothless man, hands covered in semen turning off the TV. It doesn’t exactly make me want to eat dinner without washing my hands six or seven times.
Then I notice the really old couch and chair in the room. It’s the kind of furniture that you have when you’re nineteen and you get that first apartment off campus. It has a cat piss smell that will never come out and a color pattern that hasn’t been sold in a store since Betty White had her own teeth.
The carpet is stained and faded. I wonder what color it used to be. There’s no way, really, to tell. The faux marble end tables are streaky. I really don’t want to think about what they’re streaked with. The ‘desk’ is actually a tiny little kitchen table for sad, old bachelor shut-ins; there’s barely room on it for both my laptop and my keys. The desk chair? Wicker. Yeah. The table top? Glass. What would I be doing at this table? Working on my computer. What doesn’t work on glass surfaces? That’s right, optical mice. I’m presently using the room service menu as a mouse pad. And it’s not like an optical mouse is the space shuttle. I mean, they should’ve seen this coming, no? I’m sitting here typing this in the dark because I had to unplug all of the lights to plug in my computer and charge my phone. YEAH. No bullshit.
Naturally, I felt gross so I took a shower. It was like… you know when you’re a kid and you kink the hose so that your brother will investigate and then you let go and he gets it in the face? The water pressure was like that. It was choppy and uneven; much like a garden hose with a kink in it. I’m thinking of asking for a note from the front desk in the morning. “We’re sorry that this man smells so badly. It’s impossible to shower here. Sincerely, Earl.”
So the place is scurvy and inadequate. Everywhere I look, I see drunken business men having unprotected anal sex with hookers. Messy anal, the kind where brown, viscous lube winds up everywhere … like on the carpet or the couch. After all, this place is a convention center.
Look, the truth is simple. I’ve been traveling on business a lot lately. I’ve gotten used to a better class of hotel. And so this feels inferior and oddly crunchy. Imagine that you had dated Britney Spears when she was eighteen. It would ruin your fucking life. You’re never going to be happy again, because every woman that you’re ever with after is going to feel like a busted tranny by comparison. You’d be better off dating amputees; hell, you might even wind up feeling lucky. It’s the same for me. If I’d never been to a Starwood or a Marriot property, I wouldn’t mind the occasional night at the Best Western. To be quite honest, this is instructive; I’ll avoid hotels nicer than the Marriot from now on. Imagine how much of a come down it would feel like after a night at the Four Seasons or the Mandarin Oriental.
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