I was walking out of my door on Wednesday morning and suddenly I stopped. Why? Because I was thinking about the words of Cindy McCain about Taking Off her Republican Hat and Putting on her American Hat. Frankly I want to see these hats. No I do! In fact I want her to wear one. I want it to have sequins and feathers. And maybe even a hamster cage strapped to it. Its only fair. She’s the one who mentioned it after all.
There used to be this show in San Francisco called “Beach Blanket Babylon” which was a spoof on Broadway musicals as seen through the the eyes of Snow White. Snow wandered through the possibly slightly homosexual land of half naked gay chorus boys and women with hats so large, they needed a body brace to support them. No! Its true! They were like 36 feet tall and 20 feet wide and had cable cars running on them. What? You don’t believe me?
Did you think I was kidding?? They were big mother frickers. I think they were probably Democratic hats though. I mean there were no moose huntin’ guns or NRA bumperstickers sticking out of them or anything. And beside, Glinda, the Good Witch of the North was standing nearby. And how likely is it, that she ever voted Republican?
So I finally left…hatless and headed for Wally World….with gritted teeth. I have been protesting them for about 6 months now. Why? Because I saw this horrifically telling documentary called “Walmart: The High Price of Low Cost” about how badly they treat their employees (minimum wage pay. Really expensive health insurance THEY have to pay for, so most of them end up on Medicaid and food stamps. YAY Corporate America! And we won’t even talk about how badly they treat the Chinese who make their products!)
So why was I going there? An oil change. Its cheap. I know….hypocrite, witty. Fifty lashes.
I did feel guilty though, especially after my lovely aunt had just treated me to a wonderful clothes shopping spree over Labor Day weekend. I had stopped at her house to drop off the painting she had bought. Her and my uncle were eating dinner at 1 p.m. They always do. I had just forgotten. My aunt is the kind of person who will offer you food mercilessly, until you finally relent and eat at least a half a cake and a dozen cookies. She really missed her calling as a hostage negotiator, I tell you.
So I stayed on and had some ice cream….and cake….and diet coke….and cookies. She then asked if I wanted to go Christmas shopping. HUH? I said no, but again with the Hostage Negotiator personality thing. I quickly wilted under the pressure, as in….
YES, YOU CAN TAKE ME TO THE MALL AND BUY ME GIFTS…JUST STOP BEING NICE OTHER WISE I’LL EXPECT THAT FROM EVERYONE, dammit!!!!!
So, I did have to wait for her to clean up her kitchen. She’s a little OCD, ya see. Ok alot as in there might have been a Hazzmatt team involved. So I went into her living room and played the piano while she cleaned, playing like every song ever written by Burt Bacharach, since that is just the kind of sheet music my aunt has. That and the theme from “Love Story”, which I played about 27 times in hopes of it coming true…except the part where I die, of course.
The ride to the mall was equally enjoyable. I’ve been to the Mall probably about 1397 times since I’ve lived here, but I had to go by the explicit directions of my aunt, who kept jumping nervously if I hit a grain of sand or went 1 mph over the speed limit. Not that I would or anything.
To be honest, I felt very awkward shopping with her. My secret? Every year when I open my clothes related gift from her at Christmas….I usually don’t like it. Ok, I never like it. I adore her, just not her taste. So she kept bringing me clothes, like “This is nice, honey” and it would be like a shirt with brown geraniums and pink seahorses. I absolutely abhor the color brown in case you’re shopping for me. Plus I just felt plain awkward, having someone be nice to me and buy me stuff. Like what was up with that? The last time that happened, Jimmy Carter was in the White House fercrissakes.
So she ended up buying me three shirts, a pair of shorts and some new jeans. She even shortened the jeans when we got back to her house. And I got to watch cable TV(!!!) and see an episode of “America’s Next Super Model” with Tyra (me snapping my finger in that sassy Home-Girl-Gay Man with diamond eyebrow manner. SHUT-UP! You know you do it too!).
But back to the Evil Empire, i.e., Wally World. Okay, now I am overweight by about 40 pounds, so don’t take this personally or anything, but WTF? I felt like a freakin’ Olson Twin walking through there on Wednesday. Was it Bras Optional get 50% off Day?
I hit the Car Care Center first and the guy was convinced that he was going to upsell me to the most expensive oil change. The Super-Deluxe-O-I’m Buying a Latte-For-a-Walmart-Executive-Somewhere Oil Change. I’m not sure what part of no he didn’t understand. They had an overhead camera and I was watching myself talking to this big doofus on a big TV screen at the edge of the counter. It was kind of like a surreal episode of “Witty Meets Family-Guy at Work”. He was trying to explain how he could make my fuel injectors spray in a pleasing manner (OMG, did he just talk dirty to me?) and I was looking at him blankly, like “Shut up and change my oil, dude.” He finally did.
I then wandered into the store, as it was nearly 1:30 and I hadn’t eaten yet. There is a McDonald’s near the entrance, so I sort of grimaced and headed over in that direction. Talk about ack! The place was absolutely filthy. The floors in front of the counter were black and littered with garbage. The food prep areas were covered were stray raw french fries, crumpled up pieces of paper, used condoms. I don’t know. Wow, I must have really been hungry. And sadly, there was a single African American woman at the counter and she was absolutely overwhelmed. She was taking orders, throwing fries in the fryer, trying to put burgers on the grill, and placing cups on trays but having no idea which order was which. I didn’t blame her. Not at all. They were just totally understaffed.
Reason #265 why I hated working in public jobs. Management generally sucked and workers took the brunt of their stupidity for miserable wages. Hey I know, why don’t we film this scene for a Presidential commercial??
anyways, I was kind of afraid to eat the hamburger, since I wasn’t sure if it had been cooked long enough. But I was hungry, so I powered through with my massively large Diet Coke. Fortunately, I didn’t have to utter those famous words, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry” and survived to go get my car. Did they change my oil and fondle my fuel injectors? I hope so. I paid $21. for the damn thing.
In the meantime, in terms of hats, I think I might be leaning a little towards the “Amish Girls Go Wild” motif.
Too much? Personally I think its way better than a Republican hat. I hear they cut off your blood circulation and eventually, like after 8 years, you end up acting like this….
And you definitely don’t want that!