So, I've written that post about Catalina Island; now just waiting for the photos to come back from Wal-Mart. Can you believe that David forgot to bring a camera on our trip? Yes, DAVID. Shocking.
Speaking of Wal-Mart, I never go there, and now I know why. I don't want to offend anyone, but what is up with that place that it depresses me so? I never feel depressed at Target. In fact, Target is often uplifting, with all its adorable products. But Wal-Mart...from the second I enter and smell the McDonalds fries and get engulfed in the eerie, gaseous green lighting, I kind of want to kill myself. Then, you hear it: the mounting cries of babies, first one, then another, then dozens and dozens, from every corner of the store. I scurried by one of the babies wailing his lungs out in a cart while his stone-faced mother looked straight in front of her, and did a double-take when I realized his legs and arms were covered in big, scabby sores.
All the shoppers look like someone just died, and like they haven't had fresh air or a home-cooked meal in many moons. It's all I can do not to RUN through the aisles, in a vain attempt to make my stay as short as possible. Vain because the place is like a maze, and because just when I think I'm free I see a basket of tiny spritzers of Love's Baby Soft, and I'm inexorably drawn to it, and find I am powerless to resist the fragrance I fondly recall from 8th grade, back when Brooke Shields's testimonials to its pleasures went "Love's Baby Soft. Smells like babies. You know, that yummy smell that makes you want to chew on them." Hey, look it up if you don't believe me. It's burned in my brain.
I have already had five hours of rehearsals this week. If you want to hear about that stuff, however, you need to drop me a line and I'll hook you up with my new "All Theatre, All the Time" blog. Some of you have already received invitations. It's up and running.
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6 comments:
I gotta tell ya....I'm with you on the Wal Mart feelings! I am not a fan of Wal Mart. I usually get bumped (on purpose) by someone with a cart every single time I enter their doors...which is as little as possible. Crying babies, kids running willy nilly and parents screaming is not my idea of a good time. Target is my happy place!
We must be soul sisters. I won't step foot into Wal Mart unless I KNOW they have a product I can't get anywhere else. My children refer to it as "the dreaded Wal Mart" & my youngest preceeds that with a "dun...dun...dun" in a very menacing voice.
Target is my friend! I could spend hours there roaming aimlessly.
There was a Super K Mart up in the Bay Area that we visited half a dozen times, and each and every time, I could feel gravity increasing with each and every step. By the end of our trips, I'd feel like I was on the verge of a super flu -- achy, slow, dizzy, exhausted, a little nauseous. It was in Emeryville, near the site of an ancient native village, and I used to joke that it was built on the former site of their burial ground.
I'm neutral on Wal Mart's atmosphere, but I have some weird sense of exhilaration at Target. :) It's unnatural. I think they're piping something into the air!
Love's Baby Soft...loved that stuff!
The crying babies at Wal Mart know something their caregivers don't: it's a totally shit-tastic place. Don't get me started why I don't shop there at all.
Target is proof that God loves us.
I find myself going back time and time again. What's wrong with me? Maybe I'm one of THOSE moms. But, I don't think any of my children have ever been covered in scabs. Eewww. What is that?
I totally remember Brooke letting us know the horrors of smoking.
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