Join the club
So anyway. Matt's starting to prepare for the impending collapse of human civilization. Or the zombie uprising, whichever comes first.
'Cause when you've got zombies and blue berets out there on the lawn, you need plenty of bottled water and ammo.
These concerns brought us to Sam's Club yesterday afternoon. Matt bought a membership, and generously signed me up for the complimentary extra card. I had my ID picture taken in front of a Murrakin flag.
We went up and down every aisle, delighted and amazed by the sheer abundance. I made a mental note to get my holiday baking supplies here. A 72-ounce package of Nestle's chocolate chips for like four bucks? I am there.
Matt bought two pallets of bottled water, a bushel of frozen meatballs, and a cord of hoagie rolls. I didn't find anything I desperately needed, but was tempted by the 84-count box of Boca Burgers for six bucks.
On the way out, however, we were accosted by some Girl Scouts. I got three boxes of Caramel Delites, the luscious baked goods formerly known as Samoas. That name was changed in order to appease the long-oppressed indigenous peoples of Samoa.
But, oh! What a wonderful time of year-- just as the days are getting longer and warmer, Girl Scout cookies and Cadbury Mini-Eggs arrive. That reminds me. If the ghost of Sam Walton could hook me up with a 55-gallon drum of Mini-Eggs right around the $7.50 price point, I'd be a very happy girl.
Y'know, if I have to do a research paper for Sociology class, it will most certainly be about the social class inequality of Sam's Club and Wal-Mart. The Sam's Club crowd is on a completely different echelon than Wal-Mart. This is that great "middle class" everybody keeps talking about, but cannot really define. You just know them when you see them. Yet the poor Wal-Mart shoppers are the ones who more desperately need to save money on Utz Cheeseballs and Little Debbie cakes.
So, yeah. Now I can buy frozen broccoli by the metric ton. Unfortunately, at home I'm pretty limited for storage space-- one shelf each in the pantry and fridge, and a fraction of the freezer.
But one day in the future, when U.N. troops are clawing at the windows and drooling for my brains, I'll be all set, thanks.
'Cause when you've got zombies and blue berets out there on the lawn, you need plenty of bottled water and ammo.
These concerns brought us to Sam's Club yesterday afternoon. Matt bought a membership, and generously signed me up for the complimentary extra card. I had my ID picture taken in front of a Murrakin flag.
We went up and down every aisle, delighted and amazed by the sheer abundance. I made a mental note to get my holiday baking supplies here. A 72-ounce package of Nestle's chocolate chips for like four bucks? I am there.
Matt bought two pallets of bottled water, a bushel of frozen meatballs, and a cord of hoagie rolls. I didn't find anything I desperately needed, but was tempted by the 84-count box of Boca Burgers for six bucks.
On the way out, however, we were accosted by some Girl Scouts. I got three boxes of Caramel Delites, the luscious baked goods formerly known as Samoas. That name was changed in order to appease the long-oppressed indigenous peoples of Samoa.
But, oh! What a wonderful time of year-- just as the days are getting longer and warmer, Girl Scout cookies and Cadbury Mini-Eggs arrive. That reminds me. If the ghost of Sam Walton could hook me up with a 55-gallon drum of Mini-Eggs right around the $7.50 price point, I'd be a very happy girl.
Y'know, if I have to do a research paper for Sociology class, it will most certainly be about the social class inequality of Sam's Club and Wal-Mart. The Sam's Club crowd is on a completely different echelon than Wal-Mart. This is that great "middle class" everybody keeps talking about, but cannot really define. You just know them when you see them. Yet the poor Wal-Mart shoppers are the ones who more desperately need to save money on Utz Cheeseballs and Little Debbie cakes.
So, yeah. Now I can buy frozen broccoli by the metric ton. Unfortunately, at home I'm pretty limited for storage space-- one shelf each in the pantry and fridge, and a fraction of the freezer.
But one day in the future, when U.N. troops are clawing at the windows and drooling for my brains, I'll be all set, thanks.
Dude, the zombies are already here. It's just a matter of time before they get to your house.
Braaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiins!
I'm way out in the middle of nowhere for the moment, so I'm safe for now.