Bumfight at Walmart

We were stupid enough to attempt a Sunday night Walmart run last week. Apparently the People of Walmart come for their photoshoots that day, and we were knee-deep in white trash the entire trip.

We pulled into the parking lot and K got a bad case of road rage when we got stuck behind this chick parked in the fire lane, yelling at her boyfriend. He swerved around them and pulled into a spot. Never a good sign when you're angry before you even get INTO Walmart.

Walking up to the store, we could tell something was awry. A group of people (employees included) were gathered near the door, staring in the direction of the car, where the driver had gotten out to continue yelling at her boyfriend.

What happened next was nothing short of Walmart-tastic. Her boyfriend got out of the Taurus to approach another dude in a beat up pickup truck, parked a few spots away from us. Both of the guys in the truck got out, angry words ensued, and one of them jacked the girl's boyfriend right in the face.

The boyfriend stood, face bloody, banging on the truck windows as the dude who assaulted him locked his door and tried to escape. As the truck sped off, the angry, bloody boyfriend stared after it, shaking his fist in dejection.

It was a drive-by fist pumping of epic proportions, and it totally made my day. Just when you think Walmart can't get any trashier.

Pirates with penis envy

The ladies' room at any bar is a magical place of kinship, compliments, and catfights. Friendships are forged in the always-hefty line over cute shoes, matching bags, and mutual anger that men never have to stand in line. Sometimes we link up and form an army, comandeering the men's room like pirates with penis envy.

It starts off innocently enough, you pick your bathroom partner and politely join the end of the line (yes, we do always go in groups--would you enter into battle without your fellow soldiers?)

As the night wears on and seals are broken, the bathroom becomes a dangerous place. Women get drunker and sassier, and we have to pee a LOT more often, and more urgently. Irritation replaces politeness, and anger replaces compliments as elbows are dropped in the name of basic human need.

And if you're lucky enough to get the stall that still has toilet paper on the roll and minimal urine on the seat--you better go buy a lottery ticket. Because the ladies room is where the sweet and dainty become savage beasts with no manners.

You'd think that bar owners would take this into consideration, and provide more than two stalls. If they were REALLY smart, they'd also fashion the bathroom door to open outward, so the poor lass unfortunate enough to take on the spot in line behind the door wouldn't get body slammed as she waits patiently to enter the stall. Word to the wise: save the money you spend on bouncers and invest in your restrooms. Lives will be spared, and peace will be restored.