If you know me, and frankly, it certainly seems like you do, then you might suspect that I have opinions. Go ahead: give me a subject! I’ll bet I have an opinion on it – and if I don’t, I’ll bet I can make one up, right here on the spot.
I mention that so that I can mention this: I don’t like Walmart.
And I mentioned that so that I could mention this: Willie and I got a $50 Walmart gift card from his mother for Christmas.
I dislike Walmart. Cheaply made stuff; low wages; multiple lawsuits, both decided and pending, seeking to enforce, oh, the laws in the U.S. regarding overtime and benefits; the futile efforts of small towns to keep the Walmarts out in order to save their family-run businesses and keep their downtowns alive – those kinds of things get to me.
Hey! If you don’t like it, don’t go there/work there, right?
But then we got a $50 gift card.
Oh, sure. I could’ve bought $50 worth of toothpaste or something. But honestly, our house was built in 1904 – which means that we have no closet space. Where would I stockpile these sorts of things? On the porch?
But what we bought is not important.
What size I am in clothing made by tiny, tiny women in Southeast Asia is not important, either.
What’s important – and we’ve quite enjoyed this, Willie and I! – is that Willie was the best-looking man in that store.
What does it take to be the best-looking guy at a Walmart? Well, all your own teeth, to start with. Willie’s got that. He also does not appear to be in the third trimester of a pregnancy; he doesn’t wearing saggy old sweatpants; nor does he holler from one end of the store to the other, as one man did, that the “shit paper’s over here!”.
That's all it takes.
I’m one a lucky woman, people. 2009 is absolutely brimming with possibilities.
Hands off, ladies! I got me the best-looking man at Walmart!
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