I don’t know about you but the humble bragging on Facebook has got to go! I’m diving in and writing about it via Facebook and Humble Bragging – Hot Mess Memoir
Folks we need to talk about the people that use the terms basic and extra to describe some people, as if they’re the cultural czars of the country via My Rant About Basic & Extra – Hot Mess Memoir
So there’s a new company out there called podshare.com. You can stay for 1 day to many months. You don’t have your own room but a bunk bed read more via Pod Share- Will This Replace Apartments? – Hot Mess Memoir
So I’ve decided that all ghost hunting shows are pretty much the same. Honestly, I want a ghost to throat punch a ghost hunter via The Problems With Ghost Hunting Shows – Hot Mess Memoir
I want to hear from everyone from around the world. Is it just me or is customer service overall getting worse? I wrote about it on my self-hosted blog via Has Customer Service Gotten Worse? – Hot Mess Memoir
Need a new show to binge watch? Need a pick me up after watching Abducted? Read my glowing review of comedy sitcom, Shitt’s Creek via My Review of Schitt’s Creek – Hot Mess Memoir
I avoid Walmart at all costs. The minute I pull into the parking lot I mutter “God give me the strength” as I can literally feel my blood pressure rise. There’s a reason People Of Walmart exists. I’ve actually contributed photos to this site thanks to my smart watch. Had I been caught, I would have been beaten up.
Unfortunately I had to go to Walmart.
“So why did you go to Walmart, Hot Mess?” You ask.
Truth is, there is no excuse dear reader. I could have tried harder by going across the street to Target and calling it a day. No, I needed the following: a hamper, Valentine cards for my sons’ classes and lastly a Starbuck Refresher that I can now find at only a handful of places. I’m addicted to Starbuck Refreshers. I am quite confident that like Coco-cola, they are going to find out there was a highly addictive substance in it. Until that time comes, I will indulge.
The One Consistent Factor of Every Walmart
There is 1 consistent factor of every Walmart. I don’t care if it’s the San Diego Walmart, the Mc Allen, Texas Walmart or a Walmart in China. This consistent factor is the Walmart baby.
The Walmart baby just adds that little special je ne sais quoi to an experience that is already on par with a root canal. I say Walmart baby but the child can be as old as 4 and has at least 1 of the following characteristics:
- A Kool-Aid mustache
- A green (it’s vital it’s green) snotty nose
- A shirt that hasn’t been washed since ALF was popular on television
- Optional shoes
- Optional pants-dirty shirt and diaper are fine on occasion
- An ear piercing scream that doesn’t stop because the care giver is oblivious to how this child is affecting everyone in a .25 mile radius
The funny thing about the scream is it’s almost like the baby is shopping for the exact same things as you thus following you around.
Express Check Out-20 items or less
This drives me insane ANYWHERE and it’s particularly bad at The Walmart. First of all, you will end up at the 1 express lane that has a handwritten note that says “sorry, only accepts cash”. Are we Amish here? Second, I’m on board if you have 21 items, but don’t be the ass hole who is checking out with Thanksgiving supplies.
While standing in the express line yesterday I decided something important. Walmart baby was directly behind me screaming yet I had a moment of clarity despite the shrill cries. I decided that if for some reason I become rich, I am going to get an extremely temporary job at Walmart as a Cashier so I can do what I wish all the cashiers would do. Ask people to recount their basket and if it’s filled with too many Duck Dynasty posters or Mt. Dew; to kindly go to the line for 21+ items. Because I’m rich and don’t need the job in this scenario, I can get just as mouthy with them as they get with me.
Ahhh, one can dream. What is your experience at Walmart? Do you have any pictures? Have you given your Walmart baby a name? I haven’t but I should. Hmmm……it really needs to evoke the essence of Walmart.
As my 7 year old and I walked down the stairs a few minutes ago he announced, “I like that song If I could turn back time.”
Shockingly, he sang it to the exact melody of Cher’s Turn Back Time, circa 1989.
“But I can’t remember who sings it,” he said disappointingly.
“If I could find a way….then maybe….maybe….you’d staaayyyyy,” I picked up right where he left off, completely off-key.
“I know the singer!” I announced proud that I could solve his riddle. “Baby, where did you hear that song? It was popular when I was growing up. It’s Cher.”
I was confident he had heard it on an “oldies station” (God that makes me sick to say).
“No, it’s not Cher.” He said with the confidence of a Rolling Stones Editor.
“Uhhhh, yeah it is. I’ve heard that song a billion times and that’s her song. It’s called If I Could Turn Back Time.” I was becoming mildly frustrated my son questioned this fact.
“No it’s not mom,” P yelled from the front room. “It’s called Stessed Out.”
By now, I began to have a mild, adult tantrum. I needed to defend Cher and her right to sing If I Could Turn Back Time. This was her song that signified her 3rd comeback to the mainstream in 1989. No one, and I mean no one, was going to take that away from her. If my son’s were referring to a remake by say Ariana Grande or Selena Gomez, I was going to loose my shit. There are some songs that are only right the first time.
“No, no, no. You guys have no idea what your talking about. Here, I’ll bet you a million dollars I’m right.” I grabbed my tablet and pressed YOUTUBE suddenly regretting my decision.
‘I can’t show them that video,’ I thought. How she pulled off one large piece of electrical tape without anything falling out will always be one of life’s greatest mysteries.
By now P was walking into the kitchen playing the song in question on his phone.
“It’s by 21 Pilots.” He said handing me his phone.
“Oh yeah, I’ve heard that song, it’s pretty good. You’ve got the band name just a little wrong though,” I said holding my index and thumb up to a pinching sign. I didn’t want to crush their glory about being right, but I did want to ensure they had factual information.
“It’s not 21 Pilots boys, It’s Stone Temple Pilots. Close. But no cigar.”