The Perfect Song Blog

When I go a store, I don’t go to shop. I’m a male. I’m going for things I need.

I am not shopping.

Having made that clear, I realize that when I go to a store, something changes in me. The day-to-day laid back, I-love-everybody Dennis Miller undergoes a change. It’s subtle and it’s massive.

I want what I’m going after and I want no one in my way. On my way to say, Wal-Mart, I watch the traffic and try to get the lane lead when the light turns green. If I’m coming up on a traffic light and it turns yellow, I bump the gas pedal and slide under it, hoping there’s not a cop around working toward a quota.

I arrive at Wal-Mart which I have a love-hate relationship with (as I do all stores, except the Apple Store, which I’ve never shopped in which explains why I love it). I find a parking spot with two goals:

1. To get as close as I can

2. To remember where I parked.

I go in, knowing what I want:

1. Seed starter kits.

2. Seeds

3. Storage crates

4. Shampoo –T-Gel, the only thing that controls my psoriasis

I know what I’m after. I know where they’re located. I move quickly, purposefully. An old man is shuffling in front of me. I tell myself I’ll be in his shoes one of these days but this isn’t the day and I let him eat my dust.

I round the corner of an aisle and nearly slam into a mother and three kids under the age of ten. This is the worst possible age combination group. Two kids are jumping, dancing and one is crying because the spoiled brat didn’t get the latest piece of red-painted poisonous toy from China.

I feel myself getting uptight because I have to slow down and put on a pasty fake smile of politeness masking my impatience and hopefully showing a cardboard façade of relating to the mother. (I do not relate because I am a male and the crying spoiled little barbarian should have been stored in his cave).
I scoop up the seed starter kits and head for the seed display. A Korean woman looking at the seeds asks if it’s too early to plant them. Yes, I say. It’s too early. She asks when a good time is and I want to say “go ask a Wal-Mart Associate, the vested experts making minimum wage and no benefits. They would love to expound on the best time to plant your seed.”

But I don’t.

I head down the aisle for the storage crates. A couple appears from behind a display in front of me and ambles. Do you have any idea what ambling is and what it does to me?

I’ll tell you in the next post