Slim Jims – Not Just for Snacking

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Fountain for the youth

Fountain for the youth

I pulled into the parking space and reminded myself that this needed to be done. Only four days remained until prom, and I had to buy the necessary supplies to make sure that the punch lights lit up and that the children had mini cups for the silver-plated water fountain. Nothing takes the sophistication right out of a gala event than to see teenagers funneling water into their mouths straight off a cherub’s toe. So I had my list in hand and the phrase “gird your loins” in my mind as I prepared a shopping assault on Walmart while hopefully avoiding an assault from a fellow shopper wearing bedroom slippers and the face of a bulldog.  Nothing is more irksome than a grouchy couch potato who rams her buggy square into your ankles for the capital offense of obstructing her view of the beef jerky. I took a deep breath and exited the car. I didn’t even make it out of the parking lot.

Worth fighting for

Worth fighting for

What is it with people and annoying car alarms?  The Jeep next to me got high and mighty the second I shut my car door and began wailing and flashing with enough uproar to attract the attention of NASA employees working on an overhead satellite.  Peachy. Heads from three aisles over swiveled in my direction as I scurried for the entrance and tried to look like an upright citizen incapable of operating a Slim Jim.

The inside of the store was jam-packed, and harried people who had just stopped by after work milled around the produce section in a daze looking at kumquats or trying to decide if baby or adult spinach was the better choice. Children clung to the front of buggies like hood ornaments, and mothers were either offering bribes in the form of candy for appropriate grocery store behavior or issuing stern warnings that involved declarations of “I’m going to wear you out!” if certain actions didn’t cease immediately. I was thankful to be flying solo on my gathering expedition and once again felt a surge of respect for mothers who are adept enough to take the fruits of their procreation down a cookie aisle and still emerge with their sanity on the other end.

I hit housewares, office supplies, stationary, beverages and finally a battery island where I had to divide, add and multiple to ascertain how many mega packs of double A’s to put in my cart. Of course, I made a mess of the self check-out and set a strobe light at the top of my kiosk into a tizzy, but the person in charge of my sector came over and punched in an override code to delay detonation. I rolled my buggy outside and loaded my bags into the backseat, thinking I was in the clear. Then I shut my door and set off the Jeep alarm. Again.

And if the owner of that Jeep happens to be reading this, may I just say first of all, thanks for visiting my blog and adding to my stats, and second, if your automobile activates the full gamut of bells and whistles every time a gnat farts over your hood, it may be just a tad too sensitive.

I peeled out of there in my Corolla like a person who has just successfully operated a Slim Jim.

© 2013 – Traci Carver

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3 responses »

  1. Oh my gosh – I hate those self check out things! We are in the backwoods here, so they are just now arriving, but I never [never!] manage to use one without the overseer having to come and help me out of a jam. You feel like such a loser when that light starts whirling. Ugh.

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