War-Mart is a part of the reality known as my life. I hate that damn store.

I shouldn’t. I’m a born and bred Arkansan and I should feel a sense of loyalty to the little store that Arkansas built.

But there is no loyalty there. Only disdain.

If my local War-Mart burned to the ground, it would probably rebuild itself–only bigger and stronger. Like it did on South Park. Have you seen that episode? OMG. It’s a riot. War-Mart is alive and nothing you can do will destroy it. Actually, I just looked it up, and that very episode is showing this Wednesday on Comedy Central, 10pm/9pm central. SOMETHING WALL-MART THIS WAY COMES

That’s so close to the truth, it’s scary. Trey Parker and Matt Stone are brilliant. They are right up there with Matt Groening and Seth MacFarlane.

But I digress.

I hate War-Mart.

I try very hard NOT to go to War-Mart. But my hands were tied today, because my son is working on a project and Kroger doesn’t have the supplies we needed.

Today, I spent 45 minutes loading up my cart. I was proud. 45 minutes is a record. I got in, whoooshed around the aisles, avoided the books, CDs, and Movies and rush to check out.

WHERE I SPEND ANOTHER 45 MINUTES.

JUST.SHOOT.ME.

Then, my checker, apparently not seeing the 6 miles of people waiting in every line proceeds to chat me up. Which is normally fine, except, she apparently also can’t multi-task.

Scan an item. Look at me. “Wow. You must’ve been hungry, you have a lot here. You know you shouldn’t buy groceries when you’re hungry.”

Grab one more item. Scan it. Look at me. “So were you hungry? I made that mistake one time and doubled my grocery bill.”

Grab an item. Scan it. Look at me. “blah blah blah? blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. blah blah blah blah blah.”

FARK!

But, wait, she’s not finished…she scans my beef brisket and then asks me? “Exactly what part of the cow is “brisket” from? I can’t believe you eat meat but you don’t know which body part it is. That’s just disgusting.”