guilty pleasure

I love going to Walmart. There, I said it.

Last nite, when Susan mentioned that she wanted to go, I hollered "Me too!!" You don’t see me get this excited for your average shopping trip, oh no. Walmart is "special" in every sense of the word.

First, I’m very much aware of the fact that Walmart is taking over the world, eating babies of small business owners, and turning China into a cesspool of pollution. However, in my mind, this is balanced by the fact that I can get all my stuff in one place for cheap. How about that for rationalization.

What I secretly enjoy the most is getting a glimpse into the life of middle America. Boy, it’s as captivating than watching a car wreck in slow motion... and about as tragic. It wouldn’t be a Walmart trip if you didn’t see a poster child for morbid obesity, ignorance, or poor birth control choices. You’d think you’d leave depressed, but no, the opposite happens – when you walk out of the door, you say to yourself, "Phew, I’m sure glad I don’t have to shop here!"

But you know you’ll be back.