Sunday, December 11, 2005
seasons greetings, part 2
Yesterday aftertoon, I tucked away my cynicism and masked my shame that I am one of those Unwashed Liberal Hippie Bastards Hellbent on the destruction of Christmas. The Wife and I loaded up The Boy in the Family Truckster and journeyed forth beyond the confines of our quaint and quiet little 'hood onto the freeways and wide boulevards to continue our preparations for the big day celebrating the unbridled consumption of material goods, er. . . I'm sorry, I mean the birth of Christ The Lord.
Further proving that I have turned out to be, in fact, quite the family man (which is quite surprising to many, although to those that know me better not so much) I smiled and nodded through Garden Ridge, secretly amazed at the mountains of cheap imported crap, both in price and what in many instances appeared to be quality.
In my mind I was reliving the horrors and trauma of spending many Thanksgiving nights there , taking advantage of their "We're not closing our doors for three straight days because it's Consumer, er. . . I'm sorry, Christmas shopping season sale".
Like I'm some sort of veteran of the Yuppie War.
That's just one of the reasons she's my ex-wife.
My family was on a quest for lights for our Consumer, er. . . I'm sorry, Christmas Tree.
Apparently we were quite loaded or something when we packed up all this stuff last year.
We opened a bag with lights in it and a tangled web of interlocking tied up twisted globs of wires and tiny bulbs fell onto the floor. As those things cost about 2 bucks a piece, we decided it would be more cost effective just to buy more of those damned things than to spend hours untangling the mess.
Plus, it gave us an opportunity to go buy things!
Yeah yeah yeah, like you my dear reader, I also fondly remember Linus' speech, but we all know going to buy things is really what the season is all about. Right? I mean, that's about all I see on the TV, and television is your friend and does not lie.
So we got our lights, but as apparently two weeks before Consumer, er. . . I'm sorry, Christmas day is getting to be a little late, they were out of the silver shiny glass bulbs The Wife needs to complete her vision of the Perfect Tree. We did get some really cool black ones. Yes black. Like the night sky, or the skin of The Dude who started this mess.
Trust me, you do not interfere with The Wife's vision of the Perfect Tree.
So we held breath and bit our lips and set off for the symbol and living embodiment of the ultimate evil of our consumer culture.
That's right. . . we went to Wal-Mart.
Yes, Wal-Mart. I know, I know, like you and you, we also believe that Wal-Mart is the physical manifestation of evil on Earth.
But they have become that for a reason. And the reason is they are the place to go if you need to buy loads of cheap imported crap sold under the guise of being wonderfully blue-collar-God-loving American as apple pie and baseball.
And to be greeted by some old dude in a snazzy vest.
If you must go to Wal-Mart, which like taxes and the dentist is one of those things we all just have to do sometimes, there are two different approaches:
1) Go fast, get in, get out. Know exactly what you want, find it, grab it, and get the hell out.
Yes, but where's the fun in that. Almost sounds more stressful.
So make it an event. Make a mental list of things to see and do, like your a tourist and Wal-Mart is Italy or Paris.
Which of course it is not by any stretch of the imagination, and if my dear reader, you are a well travelled individual you may almost take offense at that remark, but you do need to psyche yourself up.
Here are the top three items on our list:
1) Look for a parent disciplining a child inappropriately.
Check. Within 30 seconds of walking in the door we saw some woman drag off a screaming 3 or four year old girl by the shoulder. Not quite the gold star of this item: the in-store spanking; but still good enough to qualify.
2) Look for morbidly obese people cruising around on those little scooters.
Check. We counted three.
3) Beef jerky.
Check. By the cash registers, between the tabloids and the candy. Yesterday's flavor was "peppered". Yum, beef jerky.
Happy Consumer, er. . . I'm sorry, Christmas.
|
Further proving that I have turned out to be, in fact, quite the family man (which is quite surprising to many, although to those that know me better not so much) I smiled and nodded through Garden Ridge, secretly amazed at the mountains of cheap imported crap, both in price and what in many instances appeared to be quality.
In my mind I was reliving the horrors and trauma of spending many Thanksgiving nights there , taking advantage of their "We're not closing our doors for three straight days because it's Consumer, er. . . I'm sorry, Christmas shopping season sale".
Like I'm some sort of veteran of the Yuppie War.
That's just one of the reasons she's my ex-wife.
My family was on a quest for lights for our Consumer, er. . . I'm sorry, Christmas Tree.
Apparently we were quite loaded or something when we packed up all this stuff last year.
We opened a bag with lights in it and a tangled web of interlocking tied up twisted globs of wires and tiny bulbs fell onto the floor. As those things cost about 2 bucks a piece, we decided it would be more cost effective just to buy more of those damned things than to spend hours untangling the mess.
Plus, it gave us an opportunity to go buy things!
Yeah yeah yeah, like you my dear reader, I also fondly remember Linus' speech, but we all know going to buy things is really what the season is all about. Right? I mean, that's about all I see on the TV, and television is your friend and does not lie.
So we got our lights, but as apparently two weeks before Consumer, er. . . I'm sorry, Christmas day is getting to be a little late, they were out of the silver shiny glass bulbs The Wife needs to complete her vision of the Perfect Tree. We did get some really cool black ones. Yes black. Like the night sky, or the skin of The Dude who started this mess.
Trust me, you do not interfere with The Wife's vision of the Perfect Tree.
So we held breath and bit our lips and set off for the symbol and living embodiment of the ultimate evil of our consumer culture.
That's right. . . we went to Wal-Mart.
Yes, Wal-Mart. I know, I know, like you and you, we also believe that Wal-Mart is the physical manifestation of evil on Earth.
But they have become that for a reason. And the reason is they are the place to go if you need to buy loads of cheap imported crap sold under the guise of being wonderfully blue-collar-God-loving American as apple pie and baseball.
And to be greeted by some old dude in a snazzy vest.
If you must go to Wal-Mart, which like taxes and the dentist is one of those things we all just have to do sometimes, there are two different approaches:
1) Go fast, get in, get out. Know exactly what you want, find it, grab it, and get the hell out.
Yes, but where's the fun in that. Almost sounds more stressful.
So make it an event. Make a mental list of things to see and do, like your a tourist and Wal-Mart is Italy or Paris.
Which of course it is not by any stretch of the imagination, and if my dear reader, you are a well travelled individual you may almost take offense at that remark, but you do need to psyche yourself up.
Here are the top three items on our list:
1) Look for a parent disciplining a child inappropriately.
Check. Within 30 seconds of walking in the door we saw some woman drag off a screaming 3 or four year old girl by the shoulder. Not quite the gold star of this item: the in-store spanking; but still good enough to qualify.
2) Look for morbidly obese people cruising around on those little scooters.
Check. We counted three.
3) Beef jerky.
Check. By the cash registers, between the tabloids and the candy. Yesterday's flavor was "peppered". Yum, beef jerky.
Happy Consumer, er. . . I'm sorry, Christmas.
|
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