Yesterday, our son (seventeen) made me a proud g33k mommy. He was telling me about a new guild he set up with some friends on WoW. He mentioned that they made a tabard, and asked me to guess which symbol they used. After a few failed guesses, he told me, “The one that looks like Cthulhu.” Who says homeschoooled kids don’t learn important things?
In honor of this, I’m pulling yet another old entry out of the vault (thank Khalaan I saved them all before the former blog site went belly up). Again, this is written from the point of view of my fictional blogger self.
Sam Walton is the spawn of Cthulhu.
At the very least, he is the son of Satan. Or possibly the bastard child of an unholy convergence of the two. The reason for my belief is how easily my paycheck is displaced from my wallet every time I pass through the doors of the Somersworth Walmart, not to mention the eternity it takes to shuffle through the checkout line. It’s as if time operates outside the parameters of natural law within those cider block walls, which I consider a sure sign of some type of demonic connection.
After work yesterday, I decided to swing by The Mustard Seed in Portsmouth. The visit to the shop was wonderful, as always – sometimes just walking in the door makes me feel better. I could spend an entire day wandering through, soaking up the good vibes, and chatting with the amazing people there. After a small purchase of Prasad incense, I hopped in the car, still experiencing what I lovingly refer to as a “glow on,” and began to drive.
I immediately got distracted by a Duran Duran song on the radio (yes, I’m counting the days until Ten Thousand Fists is released, but hearing “Save a Prayer” still makes me shriek and crank the volume) so instead of heading up 95 to Maine and cutting over to 236 to get home, I hopped back on the Spaulding. Anyone familiar with the parking lot that is the Spaulding Turnpike at 5ish in the afternoon will sympathize with my plight. I was still experiencing glow-on though, so I didn’t bother sneaking off at the mall exit and going down the back roads to come out by the Lighting Barn (effectively trading the headache of inching along for the headache of merging back in). Instead, I patiently waited and eventually made my way through. I even managed to almost sail through the Dover toll with only a few people cutting me off to get to the EZpass lane.
The influence of the glow-on convinced me that even though it was the Death Hour, I could run into Walmart and get a few things I needed, and be back out before October. My dilemma was that I needed food staples such as milk, bread, and cereal along with more personal items such as shampoo, tampons, and computer paper. The logical and least expensive place to go to was Super Walmart. Somehow my shopping list that started as Express Aisle sized, turned into a shopping cart full of stuff (might as well grab Halloween candy while I’m here, right? Ooo, and look at the sale on school supplies… you can never have too many write-on/wipe off markers…). Only the power of the glow-on saved me from total commerce catatonia.
It took many hours of incense burning and web surfing before I felt the dark powers of “Hustler Walton” receding…