I shopped at Walmart today for groceries. Buying in bulk may save a few $$$ but I don’t do that. I want just enough food to get me through a couple of days. That way it doesn’t accumulate down low in the back of the bottom shelf and I don’t have to throw spoiled stuff away. Today I got one ear of corn which I ate for lunch before I put the strawberries, lettuce and garlic flavored croutons away. For me shopping at Walmart is a lot like Baptists buying booze in the liquor store. You don’t want to be seen there but as long as everybody looks the other way you don’t have to make up an excuse. But every Baptist I know has several righteous reasons for wandering into the ‘Spirits’ section or carrying out bottles in brown bags: Me & Walmart.
Everything is so expensive you have to calculate the fuel cost for the round trip and include it in the grocery bill. Seriously, at Hy Vee a pound of Jimmy Dean Italian Breakfast Sausage costs $6.04 before tax. At Wally-World the same sausage is $4.89, I even save a dime on the tax. Don’t even stop for a look at the strawberries or granola section. I have a half dozen MRE’s stuck away on the top shelf for when the world actually does come to an end. So I shop now at Walmart in spite of their evil corporate schemes and sometimes I even turn to Amazon, but only as a last resort.
What I notice most (not in a good way) at Walmart now are the tattoos, summertime and all, with short sleeves and cutoffs I cannot let them pass unobserved, like skunk in the wind. I don’t stare or make conversation, don’t get me wrong, a little bit of skunk isn’t all bad and some tats are actually great; I’m serious. I like full and partial sleeves that look like they were there at birth and grown up with the person. Flowers with leaves and vines are my favorites with a butterfly or setting sun to break up a pattern.
It is not unusual for young folks in the military to be tattooed. Some, I’m sure, can be chalked up to too much alcohol or identifying with peers. For some it’s like eating peanuts, they get started and can’t quit. Wow; there’s just enough vacant space on the point of my elbow for a big star and it only costs $225. Most of us had one or more tats before we got out or reenlisted (I moved on) but we prided ourselves on rating tattoos, what was great, good, not bad and then the really, really bad ones. In public it was common to hear someone state with a hint of disgust; “Shot at and missed.” A terrible tattoo had been judged and failed the test. What they didn’t say but certainly was implied was the unspoken, last half of the phrase; “ shit at and hit.”
My dad had tattoos on both shoulders, arms, forearms and chest. One was a big heart with a scroll and my mother’s name. The eagle on his chest was supposed to be large but once the artist got started and Dad’s pain receptors kicked in they scaled it down to about the size of a cookie. I got my tat at 18, sober, no other purpose than to give my dada little respect. It is small and gets no attention at all. If you’ve ever seen it then you must have peeked when I was in the shower.
In 2009 I was in Alaska for the summer and came away believing that every woman from Anchorage to Seward had been shot at and missed . . . If you think the clothes you wear make a statement about your tastes or personality then what kind of statement does a tattoo or tattoos make: "I am different" or maybe "I'm just like everyone else?" I met a sailor in Okinawa who had a row of dots around his neck down close to his shoulders with “Tear Along Dotted Line” inked on a label next to it over his shoulder. I asked him how that was working out and he told me, “You win some, lose some.”
This summer, especially at Walmart, there has been a lot of shit-shooting and the aim has been good. I saw a woman with 7 tats on one leg and 4 on the other and I couldn’t make out what any of them were supposed to be. She was bent over, busy with half gallons of milk on the bottom rack and it must have looked like I was checking out her butt. I didn’t say it out loud but I must have mouthed the words. When she moved on another tat billboard move into her spot.
Everything is so expensive you have to calculate the fuel cost for the round trip and include it in the grocery bill. Seriously, at Hy Vee a pound of Jimmy Dean Italian Breakfast Sausage costs $6.04 before tax. At Wally-World the same sausage is $4.89, I even save a dime on the tax. Don’t even stop for a look at the strawberries or granola section. I have a half dozen MRE’s stuck away on the top shelf for when the world actually does come to an end. So I shop now at Walmart in spite of their evil corporate schemes and sometimes I even turn to Amazon, but only as a last resort.
What I notice most (not in a good way) at Walmart now are the tattoos, summertime and all, with short sleeves and cutoffs I cannot let them pass unobserved, like skunk in the wind. I don’t stare or make conversation, don’t get me wrong, a little bit of skunk isn’t all bad and some tats are actually great; I’m serious. I like full and partial sleeves that look like they were there at birth and grown up with the person. Flowers with leaves and vines are my favorites with a butterfly or setting sun to break up a pattern.
It is not unusual for young folks in the military to be tattooed. Some, I’m sure, can be chalked up to too much alcohol or identifying with peers. For some it’s like eating peanuts, they get started and can’t quit. Wow; there’s just enough vacant space on the point of my elbow for a big star and it only costs $225. Most of us had one or more tats before we got out or reenlisted (I moved on) but we prided ourselves on rating tattoos, what was great, good, not bad and then the really, really bad ones. In public it was common to hear someone state with a hint of disgust; “Shot at and missed.” A terrible tattoo had been judged and failed the test. What they didn’t say but certainly was implied was the unspoken, last half of the phrase; “ shit at and hit.”
My dad had tattoos on both shoulders, arms, forearms and chest. One was a big heart with a scroll and my mother’s name. The eagle on his chest was supposed to be large but once the artist got started and Dad’s pain receptors kicked in they scaled it down to about the size of a cookie. I got my tat at 18, sober, no other purpose than to give my dada little respect. It is small and gets no attention at all. If you’ve ever seen it then you must have peeked when I was in the shower.
In 2009 I was in Alaska for the summer and came away believing that every woman from Anchorage to Seward had been shot at and missed . . . If you think the clothes you wear make a statement about your tastes or personality then what kind of statement does a tattoo or tattoos make: "I am different" or maybe "I'm just like everyone else?" I met a sailor in Okinawa who had a row of dots around his neck down close to his shoulders with “Tear Along Dotted Line” inked on a label next to it over his shoulder. I asked him how that was working out and he told me, “You win some, lose some.”
This summer, especially at Walmart, there has been a lot of shit-shooting and the aim has been good. I saw a woman with 7 tats on one leg and 4 on the other and I couldn’t make out what any of them were supposed to be. She was bent over, busy with half gallons of milk on the bottom rack and it must have looked like I was checking out her butt. I didn’t say it out loud but I must have mouthed the words. When she moved on another tat billboard move into her spot.
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