Hate is a strong word. But I hate Walmart. It’s a frickin’ train wreck every time I have to go there. Every. Single. Time. I try my absolute best to stay away from that Godforsaken place, but sometimes the convenience gets me. You mean to tell me that you’ve got 3,769 registers and only 2 of them are actually open. What the holy hell. And the people that go there regularly. Oh-my-lan-ta. Bless their ever loving hearts. It’s like an outtake of Deliverance. And the only reason it didn’t make the cut was because the director thought no one would really believe it was that bad. This is the richest family in America and this is the best they can do for me. I’d almost rather let an NFL punter kick me in the man region than to have to spend more than 7.25 minutes in that place. It’s turrible. Like, Charles Barkley turrible.
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