Gnomes, Cammo, Cheese, and Rabbit Food...

The freaks, do indeed, come out at night. I am absolving myself of any association with that comment by stating that this observation was all in the name of anthropology.

My girl-pal K and I went to another personal hell of mine last night; Wal-Mart. I know I have stated my loathing for Wal-Mart in the past, so no need to delve into that right now.

To fully understand, let me start at the beginning....
Target had a garden gnome in their Christmas aisle that I began coveting prior to Thanksgiving. He had an adorable red hat perched on his head, and a candle held between his gnome mitts. I had named him before I even crossed the aisle to look at him closely.

Since this was not my first time batting in the ole Tar-jay ballgame, I did not let Gnomie's $24.99 price tag dissuade me. I knew, starting on Christmas Eve, he would be had at a "g"nominally reduced price. Since there were 8 in stock, I kept my eyes on the prize.

K is also a big fan and avid collector of the Gnome. She immediately joined in "Gnome Hunt 08". Every time either of us would hit the local Target we would call the other with a "Gnome Report".

K's husband searched out the Target by his office yesterday to discover the Gnome had been marked down to 75% off, making it a mere $6.24. Sold! As soon as I left choir practice (8 pm), I picked up K and we were on our way to my Terra Cot ta victory.

After securing a gnome to take home and call my own, we wandered around the store aimlessly listening to the overhead announcements tell us "Target would be closing in 30 minutes", "15 minutes","10 minutes", "Okay, really. You silly bitches back there in the Christmas aisle? Yeah we see you, and we want to go home. Get the hell out of our store!", "Target is now closed".

As we left Target, K mentioned a curiosity about the reducing of merchandise at the local Wal-Mart. I was drunk on gnome love, so why not?

We wandered around Wal-Mart for about an hour, and then we took our (read: K's) purchases up to the checkout. Yes, I mean the checkout in the literal sense. Only one register was running. I think the lady running it may have been on her first day.

The "gentleman" in front of us in line had some very interesting purchases.

First: he was wearing a down filled camouflage coat. Skin tight Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, greasy mullet, and a smug expression.

In his hands to purchase? ANOTHER down-filled camouflage coat, a huge bag of rabbit food, and a can of NO-Doze.

One might automatically assume that he was going hunting. (Maybe wrascily wabbit?) Until.... we spotted him checking out movies at the red box in the "lobby" of Wal-Mart. I wanted to sit in my car and watch and see how long he would stand there, but my growling stomach got the best of me.

K and I had a midnight debate on where to eat, and K brilliantly suggested "Steak-n-Shake". (Dear Husband, if you are reading this, I went to Steak and Shake under protest. I would never eat at one of your favorite spots without you.) That being said, we chugged on over to SNS to find we were two of many customers- but only two of a small amount of customers over the age of 18.

Both WM and SNS had teenage (boys) roaming all over. At the risk of sounding old- what are these kids doing out at midnight? I have a mortgage, and two small children. I have earned the right to stay out all night if I wanted (and physically could).

These kids- piercings every where. And, the ambiguous hair! And, skinny jeans, on a BOY! They were making my cammo clad friend at the Wal-Mart appear more and more normal.
Granted, there were a few jockish kids squeezed into a booth that were free of visible piercings or std's. If I were a 17 year old girl, I would definitely be tempted to stroll the aisles of W-M or eat a midnight bite at SNS.

But, I wouldn't have been allowed.

Because my daddy always told me there is nothing to do after midnight but get in trouble.