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42 Things Everyone Is Thinking While They’re Shopping At Walmart

… or at Target, KMart, Costco or any other variety superstore that requires a list, a plan, and a hefty dose of patience.

  1.  Do I need a cart?
  2. I should probably get a cart.
  3. Damnit, I’m getting a basket. Even though they hurt my arms; the handles aren’t very plush.
  4. Okay, where’s my list? Did I bring my list? Dammit, guess I’m going rogue.
  5. I’m not buying sale items, I’m only here for the essentials.
  6. OH! Look! 50% off bathing suits!
  7. Focus.
  8. Without a list, I’m just going to go down every aisle in case I miss something.
  9. Wait, I’ll stop in the greeting card section for a minute… or twelve.
  10. Honestly, who just LEAVES their cart in the middle of the aisle?
  11. If it’s empty, I can take it, right?
  12. Counting three, two, one. Okay, it’s mine.  Peace out, dumbass basket.
  13. Crap, this has a messed up wheel.  That’s why it was abandoned.
  14. WHERE THE HELL IS MY LIST?
  15. Did I bring my phone?
  16. I want to ride those display bicycles.
  17. Why is my cart squeaking?
  18. Okay, time to check out, I’ve been here too long.
  19. Why did I grab Twinkies AND Devil Dogs?
  20. So, which line looks fastest?
  21. Far left, far left. ATTACK, ATTACK.
  22. Fuck.  I should have gone right.
  23. I shouldn’t have spent so much time in the card aisle.  I always get sucked in.
  24. Are old people always asking questions about sales?
  25. That guy got in line at the same time as me, let’s have a race.
  26. He’s totally going to pay before me. Damnit.
  27. WHY ARE YOU DOING SEPARATE TRANSACTIONS, WOMAN?
  28. Should I switch lines?
  29. No, I’m committed now.
  30. Do I need a snack while I’m waiting?  I like Reeses.  OH, Butterfingers.
  31. I’ll read a magazine.  Is it cheating if I read it but don’t buy it?
  32. The stuff on the exit shelves look good, how do I buy that but stay in line?
  33. You actually don’t need an inflatable pool to put in your pool, get with it.
  34. WHY HAVE I NOT MOVED IN ONE HUNDRED MINUTES?
  35. She’s using pennines.  This old woman is paying in pennies.  I hate her.
  36. Someone get this woman a debit card!
  37. That guy is about to be at the register.  I can totally win this game.
  38. Scan away, cashier, scan away.
  39. I’ll load up my belongings on the conveyor belt, it will be helpful, and I always dreamed of ringing up items as a cashier when I was a child.
  40. Swipe!
  41. No thanks, I don’t want my receipt with four items and six thousand miles of coupons.
  42. GET ME OUT OF HERE.

What drives YOU insane when you’re shopping?

An Open Letter To Everyone At The Airport

Dear Fellow Travelers, Passengers Sharing My Aircraft, And That Asshole Trying To Stuff An Elephant In The Overhead Bin,

I hope this letter finds you well.

If it does not find you well, I am going to assume you had a shitty run through airport security, and as a result, decided to remove common sense, manners, and basic problem solving skills from your life for the next couple hours while you’re aboard the mile-high skybus, subsequently making everyone else’s life more difficult.

You know, because you are the first person to ever have a horrible time going through the process of boarding a plane.

I’ve come to accept the inevitable invasive body search ritual while my bag gets a conveyor belt CAT scan.   If I get by unscathed, I consider it good karma for the time I gave that homeless lady a coffee.

Everyone needs to accept that this is what the standard precautionary measures for security clearance are.

We’re never going to be able to bring our brita filtered water through the pearly gates of Laguardia, so after security, go to the water fountain and fill up your reusable bottle like the plebeian you are and move on.

Amen, license plate, amen.

Amen, license plate, amen.

If you line up before your boarding group is called and block the handicap lane, I hate you.  I hope the next time you’re at a restaurant they give your meal to a homeless person outside and still make you pay for it.

Travelers bringing luggage onto the plane, please assess the size and dimensions.  When you purchased this piece of luggage, if it didn’t come with a tag that read “CARRY ON” this means you probably cannot carry it on the plane without ruining someone else’s day.

If by chance, you make it through the ticket checkpoint unnoticed and roll your monstrosity of a bag onto the jet, putting it SIDEWAYS in the overhead bins will ultimately cause some other passenger, one who followed the rules and regulations of carry-on baggage, extreme anxiety when he or she is not able to fit their luggage above their seat.

Forgive me, I know your bag is important, but go fuck yourself and learn to consolidate like everyone else.

Sidenote: People who automatically place their luggage sideways in the overhead bins are most likely also the people who hog the armrests, and probably did not share toys as a child. 

Getting up immediately after the plane lands and removing your bag is fine, I guess. But if you’re pissed off about standing in line and wait for another twenty minutes to disembark you’re not being a logical human being.  Wipe the pout off your face, exercise a little patience, and wait until the line moves.

We’re all stuck here, honey.  And we all want to get off the plane.  But you’re in row 27 of 30, it’s going to take a few extra minutes.

Look, I get it, flying sucks, we all want to get off the plane and onto our destination.  Your needs and excitements are not unique, put on a smile, or at least stop frowning, and deal with it.  If you wanted to be in control of your spatial constraints, you should have driven.

Also, read SkyMall, it will totally lighten your mood.

Sincerely,

Everyone Else At The Airport, Those On Your Flight, And The Person Who Had To Check His or Her Bag Last Minute Because You Took Up Too Much Space

Your turn!! What do you hate about traveling?  Did I leave anything out?

 

Does Heaven Have An Open Bar?

Dichotomy City.

Dichotomy City.

I have already talked about how I’m going to hell, but since turning twenty-five, my mother told me to grow up I’m all about making dramatic life changes in order to become a better person.

A few weeks ago I was at the gas station when a homeless woman came up to me and asked me for money so she could buy a coffee.  I never carry cash, so I went in with her and used my debit card to get her a medium light and sweet.

The next day a man asked me for some money so he could buy a T pass. Again, I never carry cash, but I swiped him through the turnstile so he could catch the next train.

I don’t carry cash for a variety of reasons.  One, I am too disorganized in my purse to ever hold on to any amount of money.  Second, using credit cards gives the illusion that I’m not spending real money, so if I don’t see the cash physically disappear, it must still be in my bank account (this is completely rational thinking, by the way).

But not carrying cash in those two instances allowed me to do something good with my money.  Now I know buying a coffee and a train ride aren’t the basis for getting into heaven, but I have to believe it’s a good start.

This whole path towards greatness got me thinking about what heaven must be like.  And if I’m going to be in it, there definitely needs to be a few things to make my eternal stay in the afterlife a comfortable one.  I made this list assuming bacon was already present, because frankly, excluding it would be preposterous.

Here is a list of the things that (absolutely) have to be in heaven:

1. Naps

You have to be outside of your mind if you don’t think that I will spend every night dreaming about nap time, and every day planning out when it’s happening.

2. Wine

Grapes on grapes on grapes.  Wine for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Wine is water, and water is wine. I think the bible says that.

3. Buffets

I can’t be in an eternal place of peace and serenity and not have unlimited access to selections from Taco Bell, Pizza Hut and KFC.  KFC biscuits are a deity.

4. Teleports

Aint nobody got time to wait in line in heaven. I can’t be dealing with traffic up in the sky when I want to go to Cloud Bar for a 7pm dinner reservation.

5. Jax Teller

I don’t understand why I would have to explain this one.

6. Baby Animals

Puppies will always be puppies, and baby pandas will be my pillows, and there will be a baby jungle full of baby lions, tigers, bears, OH MY! Basically heaven will be Neverland for animals.

7. Trampolines

No one has a bad day after playing on a trampoline. I will also miraculously be gifted the talent of being able to do gymnastics, so trampolines will have infinitely more applications in my afterlife.

8. Good Hair Days

There is no way I don’t wake up in heaven with perfect tendrils or tresses or curls, it’s just not possible. Hair always looks good in heaven. I think it’s because there’s no humidity or something. Don’t quote me on that.

…

In the vein of all things glorious, there are definitely a list of things that are, under no circumstances, allowed in heaven (with or without me).

1. The DMV

The DMV belongs in hell. Those people probably didn’t pay their parking tickets and have more of a use for it anyways. Heaven only lets in good drivers.

2. Airport Security

I’m going to fly with nine hundred water bottles and regular sized shampoos.

3. Push Button/Hand Sensor Faucets

Heaven trusts people to turn the faucet off when you’re done washing your hands.  The people in hell deserve to have sensors tell them when they’ve hit their water quota.

4. Food Allergies

I’ve lived too long with a dairy allergy. I reserve the right to gorge my face with cheese and ice cream, or cheese-flavored-ice cream in heaven.  Food allergies are going to hell. BE GONE.

 

Ask And You Shall Receive… A Lie.

My mom and dad always told me to tell the truth.

Fact: Big hats are always an excuse for inappropriate behavior.

Fact: big hats are always an excuse for inappropriate behavior.

That doesn’t mean I always listened.

For the most part, I am pretty honest.  It has gotten me into trouble, but most times, I firmly agree with the whole honesty is the best policy thing.

I had to go to the doctor for a yearly check up, or as I like to call it, an invasion of my privacy. Like… stop touching me, and don’t ask me about my life. I’m 24, I probably do all the things you are asking about on your little PhD question sheet. Let’s move on.

But before entering the room of shame where I am guilted into talking about all the bad things I do, they make you fill out a questionnaire about your ‘history.’  I looked it over and thought about how many times I actually tell the truth on these types of surveys… the answer: not very often.

So, instead of doing it honestly, I concocted a list of all the things that I lie about on a daily basis, and a little insight into my rationale/right to do so:

Working Out:  This is numero uno on the list.  I always lie about the last time I exercised.  Honestly, if someone doesn’t physically drag me by the hair, hands, legs, and feet to the gym, I will remain on my couch.  But, if someone good looking and in shape asks me what I do for activities, you best believe I’m talking about doing cardios, dumbells, yogalaties, mountain climbing, and P90X on a Sunday afternoon.  Gotta talk good to look good, ya hear?

Liking Food: Thanksgiving rolls around and everyone thinks they’re Martha Stewart.  Please do not try new recipes at Thanksgiving or Christmas, or any holiday that has the word TRADITION stamped across it. It’s called tradition for a reason.  I like apple pie, I don’t like apple pie with a fig tree growing out the center and a candy crust made of malt molasses.  My parents taught me to be polite though, so I’ll take a few bites and say it’s the bees knees – then promptly go eat an entire sleeve of Oreos to cleanse my pallet.

Last Time I Ate: I love food. I always look for snacks. So naturally, if I go out to lunch and 10 minutes later, someone asks me to meet them for an early dinner I am b-lining it straight to that destination.  I’ll walk in claiming I am starving and my parents are hoarding all the food in my house and I’m forced to result to hunter-gatherer tactics to nourish myself.

Height and Weight: My doctor REFUSES to allow me to think I’m 5’4.  Every time, it’s 5’3 and 7/8.  I’m 1/8th of an inch off? Not in my house. My hair air drying has the consistency akin to that of a prepubescent teenager, I know I got an eight of an inch in there somewhere. As for weight… don’t even ask me why I lie about that.

Time I Left: Ever heard the phrase, “Oh yeah, just left, I’ll be there in five.” Yeah, that actually means I’m still in bed, no pants on, with my retainer in my mouth.  I’ll hop in the shower and see you in half a day. But, don’t ever be late when I’m on time.  Heads. Will. Roll. 

Family History: Anything that I can lie about family history-wise on a survey that will give me something free, beneficial, or discounted, I am all for it.  My grandfather has twelve toes, my uncle breeds llama-donkey hybrids, I don’t care.  You think freegrocerycoupons.com is really going to run a background check to see whether or not I’m actually related to Michael Jordan?  Didn’t think so.  I’ll take my two free gallons of milk and a store brand poundcake be on my way.

Drinking/Smoking: I never drank until I was 21, and cigarettes are bad. This is/is not a lie.

Knowing What You’re Talking About: I like to talk.  If we’re in deep conversation and it transitions towards a topic that I don’t know anything about, I’m just gonna pretend I do.  I commit to it.  “Yeah, I’ve seen that show, season 1 was crazy! Remember when that guy did that thing… oh man! Had to close my eyes.”  Vagueness is the key to owning social situations.  You have to almost not know what you’re talking about to know what you’re talking about.  If you think about it, it makes sense.

…

For real though, always tell the truth when you’re talking to police.  Lies will get you thrown into the slammer so fast, you’ll forget what day of the week it is and wind up thinking orange is actually a nice color to wear.

Honestly, The “Now, That’s What I Call Disney” Compilation Is A Complete Travesty.

This compiler is a dunce.

This compiler is a dunce.

I can’t go into the weekend with this on my mind.  So, here we go.

I asked my mom the other day, “On a scale of 1-10, how dramatic am I?”

In unwritten dramatic scales, 10 presumably consists of daily temper tantrums in the street because you can’t get two toppings on your ice cream cone, and 1 consists of ignoring all problems in your day to day life because you’re just “so over the drama.”

My mother rated me at an 8.

Yes, an 8 on the drama scale. My mother just sentenced me to a semi-regular mental and physical breakdown in a public place over frozen treats.

Keeping that in mind, but at the same time, ignoring it completely and thinking of me in a more positive, attractive, calm and collected light, I want to tell you a story.

Recently, there was an attack on my childhood.

It started with an infomercial. An innocent advertisement for a compilation of songs that serenaded me through adolescence, Now That’s What I Call Disney!

At the start of it all, it seemed like a mix I could get behind. A little piece of plastic disc nostalgia that I could really see myself enjoying… Until I saw the track list.

Frankly, it was just atrocious. Flat out wrong, immoral, and a complete mockery of the cartoons that taught me the wind had colors, carpets can fly, and legs were required for dancing.

I don’t know who did it.  I don’t know what committee is involved with the song selection.  I’m assuming can only be a panel made up of this woman and her friends, to represent Disney in the first volume of hits.

But, God as my witness, it needs to be corrected.

At first glance you may think to yourself, hey Meg, your mom is totally right, you are dramatic, I actually think I saw you crying about missing toppings on your ice cream cone back in August.

And while I was having a tantrum, it was actually because my friend wouldn’t buy me a wine at 3pm on a Wednesday.

My thoughts on this CD are still valid.  If you’re going to have a Now That’s What I Call Disney, you’ll need a few Bare Necessities, if you will (umm…. yes, pun totally intended). Here are my expert feelings on most of the selections:

…THE GOOD

Can You Feel The Love Tonight: I’ll be honest, this is the first love scene I ever saw in a feature film. So, that alone needs to be a reason for it to be PRAISED. Lion love is like, so real.

Part Of Your World: Never in my life have I found someone who had as many thingamabobs as me.  I also have never met anyone who didn’t know what a fire was and why it burned.  Still don’t. So… anyone?

Hakuna Matata: Zen Nation. I didn’t know what chill was until I heard this song.  Plus, teenage Simba was kinda hot, no? Just me? K.

Under the Sea: How did I know things existed under water? This song.  Figured the sea was just a big bathtub that covered the Earth’s floor before I found out there were talking crabs and singing corals down there. Just a big percussion party at the clam bake on the ocean floor.

Circle Of Life: NAHAHHHHHSSIIVVEEENNNYYAAA- NAMA-MEE-SCALABOOOOOW. Don’t know if that’s what it says, but I’m gonna sing it like that so loud, and so proud. Every time. Such a good song.

Colors of the Wind: I have asked four grinning bobcats, none have answered. I have no idea why the hell they keep smiling and someone needs to answer me. NOW.

I Just Can’t Wait To Be King: This song taught me how to rule a household.  One time my mom told me to go clean my room before my grandparents came to visit. I was all like, “Kings don’t need advice from little horn bills for a start.” —  I don’t want to talk about what happened after that. (#Grounded)

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious: Ummdiddaliddiaummdillaaaiiiiiiii. I don’t think there are actual words to this song, so it gets credit by default for being a jumble of syllables with a boss melody.

…THE BAD

When You Wish Upon a Shooting Star: Could this be a more boring opener?  Do I want to fall asleep immediately after one song? No. I want to continue my journey down memory lane and go back to the time that I actually thought body parts would grow if I lied (aside: this would be so cool if you could pick the body parts that grew after lying, like my hair, I’d be Millenium Rapunzel with all my fib growth).

Someday My Prince Will Come: The only acceptable song from Snow White that should be included on this cd is Heigh Ho, and you didn’t do that.

Bella Notte: More like better not. Snore city.  Population: everyone listening.

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes: To be honest, I didn’t even know there were songs in Cinderella, this is just dumb.

Once Upon A Dream, Go The Distance, Friend Like Me, I Won’t Say: Same thing, don’t even remember these songs. Like a bad football player, cut ’em.

Everybody Wants to Be A Cat: Newsflash: No one likes cats. Dogs are so in right now. Puppies are the new currency, and cats are straight up debt. No one wants debt; no one wants cats.

I See The Light, You’ve Got A Friend In Me, Life is A Highway: New aged Pixar Disney movies shouldn’t even be considered for volume 1 (Post ’95). It’s just a sin. Get out of my face Tangled, Cars, and Toy Story. See you next year, suckaaaaas.

Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride: Does it sound like a good time? Yes. Do I even know what it means? No. I’ve never seen Lilo and Stitch because I like movies about real animals with real plots. I see you Lion King. Respect.

Reflection (NOT CHRISTINA AGUILERA): I don’t know why I would have to explain this, but not having Christina’s version of this song is nothing shy of eating a sandwich without condiments. Just deplorable.

… THE UGLY

Seeing as I just exiled ten songs from DisneyTown, there are some additions that need to be spoken for in order to make this whole ordeal right:

I’ll Make A Man Out of You: The fact that this song isn’t number 1 on the whole thing is blasphemous. This is the best song in Disney history. Coursing rivers, great typhoons, raging fires, moons with mysterious dark sides. Color me intrigued. Repeat. All day. Every day. Except when I get sick of it. I take one day off. Then start again.

Be Our Guest: Talking candles? Pots and pans that have feelings? An ottoman that’s a dog? GIVE ME THIS HOUSE. I don’t need friends, I have decorations that will hang out with me. Life crisis averted.

Heigh-Ho: Give a kid a pick-axe and ask him to sing a song. What’s it gonna be?  This one. Unforgivable overlook.

Reflection (Christina Aguilera Version): Phenomenal acting by Mulan in this music video.  Very attentive, inquisitive stares into various mirrors of sizes and lengths.  Breathtaking.

…

The only way to make this right is to take my suggestions and reprint all the copies of the cd out there right now. I’m speaking for a generation of 85’s to 90’s babies. But really, I’m speaking for myself. Fix it. Fix it now. Make it right. Or make a man out of me. Either one would be greatly appreciated.

Although, under no circumstances, will I be doing this:

determined01_9461

GOOD DAY.