No fatties


If your ass weighs 100 pounds all by itself, and you need the use of a motorized cart to get through the supermarket, you are TOO FUCKING FAT.
Chrissakes, what is happening here?
First, that grocery stores need to stock motorized carts is fucked up.
Second, if your marshmallow-butt precludes you from walking a distance of less than 100 yards all at once, YOU ARE TOO FUCKING FAT.
So I go into Winco last night to get a few supplies so I can make stew. It sounded good.
I was on the eastside of town, having just dropped off the boy to basketball practice. My mistake.
Winco is like Wal-Mart, full of welfare pricks clutching their coupons and entitlement cards shopping for pure shit. Clogging up the aisles looking for pre-packaged garbage, all the while either yelling or smacking five unruly kids – all of who have runny noises and no shoes.
I turn into the soup aisle to get some organic beef broth, and there’s two fat-assed women riding carts. And you could tell that they didn’t know one another.
Along for the ride were two scraggly looking men, both with long, greasy hair and less teeth than God intended, throwing shit into the carts – while both women grunted and pointed (both where huge, well into the “Thar She Blows!” fatness where their huge, sweaty tits rested in their laps and made for this solid cascade of blubber from their multiple chins to their pussy bellies).
Neither cart – and both were nearly full – had not one single item of pure, wholesome, honest-to-God food in them. One cart was loaded down with four CASES of generic soda. Chips. Cookies, microwave dinners, boxed instant potatoes (boxed potatoes? What the FUCK?)
I just wanted to get in front of them, turn gracefully and scream;
“You see the reason you have to have a motor attached to your ass, right?”
Instead, I put the stew meat and the bag of organic carrots on the floor and left (well, fled is more like it).
I went to Safeway.
Yes, they employ motorized carts there, too.
But only one was in use – by a frail woman easily in her 80s, accompanied by her granddaughter(?)
Mostly, the folks who shop there are professionals. That and hard-working locals who picked up actual food that you have to cut, peel and cook.
Usually, it takes my iPod and a stiff drink (afterward) to navigate Winco. Now that I’m on this no-processed-food mission, Winco keeps getting tougher and tougher to do.
I just keep looking at the bright side – my ass doesn’t have to be motorized anywhere.

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