I didn’t grocery-shop prudently last week so I had to join the madding crowd at Target today. Target’s clientele is a step above Wal-Mart’s but sometimes, you never know.
Give me strength, people, it never fails. There’s some Yahoo walking from the last remaining parking spot – ‘pert near in the next county – proudly strutting his stuff, walking towards the store in a pair of shorts.
Okay, this is Georgia and we don’t have to worry about shoveling driveways then cursing the snow plow, or waiting for a chinook to moderate things. By comparison, it’s a balmy 54F – 12C – outside right now. Snow fell one day last year, so we most likely won’t have any again for a few more years.
But it’s damn WINTER… two days ’til Christmas. His wife has got the little girl bundled up like the store was in the Yukon and she’s got the sense to wear a jacket, but Hillbilly Hank is sporting his best sweatshirt freshly drug out of the laundry hamper, a ball cap and a pair of perma-wrinkle shorts that haven’t seen an iron since they left the Goodwill store.
Stick your hand outside and see if it’s dark, buddy. What a buffoon!
The wife should have said to him, “Honey, you drop us at the door. You go park in East Moses and when me and Honey-BooBoo are done shopping, we’ll come find you in the automotive department. And, no, Santy ain’t bringing you a 48” lift kit for your truck.
“As it is right now, I cain barely git my two-all-beef-patties into the seat.”
I love the South.