"Vomit Check, Aisle Seven!"
In a dating shot heard around the world, Wal-Mart has announced to its legions of consumers that it will hammer the final nails into the coffin of one of it’s more obscure, ill-fated programs that actually attempted to help single shoppers find love among the aisles of ‘Red Tag Sale’ bins. I’m sure the good owners and proprietors of ‘Lava Life’ are letting out a collective sigh of relief.
Who in their right coherent minds would ever go to Wal-Mart of all fucking places to find a little romance for their lives? Wal-Mart doesn't even sell condoms! Personally, I find Walmart to be about as romantic and stimulating as combing out the knots from my butt hair.
Apparently, taking a cue from other Wal-Mart’s located over in Germany, on Friday nights singles looking to score with more than just bargain basement prices, mindless flirting in the Women's Lingerie department, or just to meet a new friend in the Family Planning aisle, could just head on over to their local Wal-Mart where they’re given a big bright red bow to attach to their shopping cart or shopping basket to attract other single losers like moths to a blue light. To help initiate contact between single shoppers, they even went so far as to set up “flirting points” around the stores stacked with such vital mood enhancers as chocolate, cheese and wine, in order to help with that first awkward step.
Whatever happened to get getting pissed at some hole-in-the-wall bar, air-guitaring to Foreigner like a jagoff, and screwing the first welfare mother who passes out in the parkinglot? Anyone? Bueller?
I’m not at all surprised that this program went over like a set of Nipsy Russel collector plates. These are fucking GERMANS, after all, that devised this scary business-dating strategy. They’re EVIL! They start wars – not make love connections! Since when have Germans ever been considered as anything resembling romantic? Bratwurst, sauerkraut, Kraftwerk, polka, Beer Hall Putsches, Wagner, and the Holocaust - what’s ever been romantic about being German?
Do you get all juiced up and excited over 'Oh Mein Papa'? Fuck NO!
I’d even be terrified of helping myself to those free treats at the flirting points lest they should be secretly dosed with Zyklon-B. One minute I’m nibbling on a piece of gruyere and chatting up some woman over a stack of bath mats, and the next thing I know I’m riding a white swan through some mystical Marc Bolan wet dream fantasy into a bright light on the horizon.
I don’t even understand how Wal-Mart could consider adapting this program of “Single Shoppers” for consumers here in North America anyways. To me, Wal-Mart and romance go together like meatballs and glue. Besides the fact that someone who shops regularly at Wal-Mart (much less on a Friday night) would be the kind of person who would otherwise spend their weekends at home making collages out of cutout pictures from old MacCleans magazines; it just screams “CHEAP BASTARD”! Not exactly "Dating Material" in my books. I wouldn’t approach any of these people; even if I was all hopped up on chocolate and wine. From what I’ve witnessed in the aisles on my few brief intermittent visits to Wal-Martdom, your average Wal-Mart shopper looks like someone whose first date would possibly entail chopping up my body and dumping me in the woods on the outskirts of town.
Who cares if 300 to 400 people regularly took part in this madness in Germany? They’re fucking Germans! Remember? They’re all on the autobahn straight to Hell anyways. They can all be fornicating with donkeys in the store aisles and still I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. That doesn’t mean that we too should jump on the bandwagon.
We North Americans are far too paranoid and uptight to ever participate in these single shopping romance shenanigans. We take our dating tips from Dr. Phil – not Sam Walton! Besides, how much of a loser are you going to feel if you should fail to pick up even at Wal-Mart? I don't know about you, but I’d shoot myself between the eyes with a crossbow from the Sporting Goods department before ever attempting to live that one down! All the free chocolate and cheese in the world isn’t going to help me score when the female prospect spots me checking out with an oil funnel, a bottle of baby oil, and a tube of tennis balls.
If Wal-Mart really wanted to make this “Single Shoppers” program work with Western consumers they might have considered adopting new staff uniforms apart from those god-awful red-fucking-vests that make their employees look like a bunch of organ-grinder’s monkeys for fuck sakes! How about something a little more peek-a-boo, or at least that has a few tassels or something? And beyond plying their shoppers with schmultzy food at “flirting points”, how about also providing them an entire allotted section of the superstore in which to bump uglies once those aphrodisiacs kick in? They could have a whole “Swing Area” in the bedding department for the single shoppers to rut in like animals in heat if ever they should find true love among the vast shelves of cheap-ass discounted housewares.
Please, dear reader, if any of you should ever happen to see me wandering the aisles at Wal-Mart in the future with a big red bow on the shopping basket hanging over my arm like some Little Red-fucking-Riding Hood ass hat - mule kick me straight in the scrotum!
My thanks in advance.
Who in their right coherent minds would ever go to Wal-Mart of all fucking places to find a little romance for their lives? Wal-Mart doesn't even sell condoms! Personally, I find Walmart to be about as romantic and stimulating as combing out the knots from my butt hair.
Apparently, taking a cue from other Wal-Mart’s located over in Germany, on Friday nights singles looking to score with more than just bargain basement prices, mindless flirting in the Women's Lingerie department, or just to meet a new friend in the Family Planning aisle, could just head on over to their local Wal-Mart where they’re given a big bright red bow to attach to their shopping cart or shopping basket to attract other single losers like moths to a blue light. To help initiate contact between single shoppers, they even went so far as to set up “flirting points” around the stores stacked with such vital mood enhancers as chocolate, cheese and wine, in order to help with that first awkward step.
Whatever happened to get getting pissed at some hole-in-the-wall bar, air-guitaring to Foreigner like a jagoff, and screwing the first welfare mother who passes out in the parkinglot? Anyone? Bueller?
I’m not at all surprised that this program went over like a set of Nipsy Russel collector plates. These are fucking GERMANS, after all, that devised this scary business-dating strategy. They’re EVIL! They start wars – not make love connections! Since when have Germans ever been considered as anything resembling romantic? Bratwurst, sauerkraut, Kraftwerk, polka, Beer Hall Putsches, Wagner, and the Holocaust - what’s ever been romantic about being German?
Do you get all juiced up and excited over 'Oh Mein Papa'? Fuck NO!
I’d even be terrified of helping myself to those free treats at the flirting points lest they should be secretly dosed with Zyklon-B. One minute I’m nibbling on a piece of gruyere and chatting up some woman over a stack of bath mats, and the next thing I know I’m riding a white swan through some mystical Marc Bolan wet dream fantasy into a bright light on the horizon.
I don’t even understand how Wal-Mart could consider adapting this program of “Single Shoppers” for consumers here in North America anyways. To me, Wal-Mart and romance go together like meatballs and glue. Besides the fact that someone who shops regularly at Wal-Mart (much less on a Friday night) would be the kind of person who would otherwise spend their weekends at home making collages out of cutout pictures from old MacCleans magazines; it just screams “CHEAP BASTARD”! Not exactly "Dating Material" in my books. I wouldn’t approach any of these people; even if I was all hopped up on chocolate and wine. From what I’ve witnessed in the aisles on my few brief intermittent visits to Wal-Martdom, your average Wal-Mart shopper looks like someone whose first date would possibly entail chopping up my body and dumping me in the woods on the outskirts of town.
Who cares if 300 to 400 people regularly took part in this madness in Germany? They’re fucking Germans! Remember? They’re all on the autobahn straight to Hell anyways. They can all be fornicating with donkeys in the store aisles and still I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. That doesn’t mean that we too should jump on the bandwagon.
We North Americans are far too paranoid and uptight to ever participate in these single shopping romance shenanigans. We take our dating tips from Dr. Phil – not Sam Walton! Besides, how much of a loser are you going to feel if you should fail to pick up even at Wal-Mart? I don't know about you, but I’d shoot myself between the eyes with a crossbow from the Sporting Goods department before ever attempting to live that one down! All the free chocolate and cheese in the world isn’t going to help me score when the female prospect spots me checking out with an oil funnel, a bottle of baby oil, and a tube of tennis balls.
If Wal-Mart really wanted to make this “Single Shoppers” program work with Western consumers they might have considered adopting new staff uniforms apart from those god-awful red-fucking-vests that make their employees look like a bunch of organ-grinder’s monkeys for fuck sakes! How about something a little more peek-a-boo, or at least that has a few tassels or something? And beyond plying their shoppers with schmultzy food at “flirting points”, how about also providing them an entire allotted section of the superstore in which to bump uglies once those aphrodisiacs kick in? They could have a whole “Swing Area” in the bedding department for the single shoppers to rut in like animals in heat if ever they should find true love among the vast shelves of cheap-ass discounted housewares.
Please, dear reader, if any of you should ever happen to see me wandering the aisles at Wal-Mart in the future with a big red bow on the shopping basket hanging over my arm like some Little Red-fucking-Riding Hood ass hat - mule kick me straight in the scrotum!
My thanks in advance.
2 Comments:
Hey, thanks for the spam. Would be interesting in renting the space on my forehead to tatoo your mortgage rate website on as well?
Shit, I was hoping to find my dream man in the firearms isle of Wal Mart.
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