I went to WalMart today. I feel like a sell out when I go to WalMart. I stepped in the store, and instantly I felt like I should be “saying no” to it for some reason, but I couldn’t remember why so I stepped inside and grabbed a cart.

That was my first mistake.

After I grabbed the cart - knowing full well I had just gone there to get some liquid shower soap - and some more lotion - and a few shelves/storage things for my room - I went down the middle aisles to see if I needed anything else.

That was my second mistake.

I ALWAYS need something else. It’s not that I’m spoiled - wait. It’s not that I’m spoiled that much - it’s just that I’m one of those people who always wants. And once I open up those flood gates - I want more and more and more. I’m like that with movies. I’m like that with books. I’m like that with peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches - and I’m like that with money. I’m also like that with friends, with sex, and was like that with cigarettes and on occasion the illegally acquired strawberry margarita. I have - what I have accused many of my callers of having - an addictive personality. I also have very distinctive ideas of how I see things - and how I want things to be for myself. I tend to have this idea in my head of what I want things to ultimately be like - and give up quickly if I see that this idea is near impossible to achieve. I guess I’m an addictive perfectionist.

So I go into WalMart - and I go browsing along the aisles to see if there is anything that I need. And I find all kinds of things that I want. I start imagining having an apartment of my own. I see the dishdrainer that I would choose. Then I see the bookshelves that I would have in the living room. I look at the dishes that would sit in my cupboards, and then I find myself in the bedding department. I feel the need - before I go any further - to announce that I am a girl. The bedding department is the worst possible area for a girl to be in in any major shopping store. Let me see if I can illustrate why.

When a girl goes to look at bedding she doesn’t just look at the sheets - she also looks at the sham - and the pillow shams - and the rug - and the curtains for the windows - and then the lamps - and then plants or flowers - and thennnn she goes quickly to the bathroom section. Because any girl knows that the bathroom also has to go along with the theme of the bedroom. It just has to. The towels have to match the rug in the bathroom which also has to match or at least be in the same color family as the bedroom colors. Pretty soon I had convinced myself that I needed new sheets for my bed. They were on sale. But then the sheets didn’t really go with the pillow cases I already had (and I have about 5 pillows on my bed - the non decorative kind. I have about 10 decorative pillows AT LEAST) so I had to get pillow cases. And then I questioned the little rug that is by my bed. Then I found myself in the CD section of the store. I wanted Nelly Furtado - but then there was also the newest Joss Stone CD. Did I want to dance around in my panties and bra to Man Eater - or did I want to write papers and evaluate my life while listening to soulful Joss Stone. By the time I left WalMart Hell I had spent about 40 more bucks on things than I really needed to - or even that I had really planned on spending. I had chisseled away 2 hours off of my day day dreaming thru the aisles of hell - and I had a splitting headache from wanting wanting wanting wanting everything my eyes landed on.

I need to say no to WalMart for this reason. It is a money trap. It reminds me of the slot machines on the cruise ships. It calls out your name - you see it as a trap - you have a roll of quarters and you have told yourself that you will not spend 1 quarter more than that roll - and the next thing you know you’re 50 bucks down listening to the little “WHEEL OF FORTUNE” voice and getting all moist and orgasmic over the damn thing.

WalMart makes me moist. It really truely does. It makes me excited. And the proof that WalMart is like sex to me - is that as soon as I had packed up my little bags and walked defeated to my car - I wanted a cigarette. I wanted to light up and inhale it while leaning my head back in my car and trying to catch my breath. I wanted to blow little lazy smoke circles in the air and stick my finger thru them like I was fingering myself. I wanted to feel the thing in between my fingers and listen to the hiss it makes when you inhale. I wanted to watch the little cherry at the end grow brighter and I wanted that little bit of a head rush that goes right along with it.

Thank god for the patch is all I’m saying. Had it not been for that little patch on my shoulder blade I would have ran to the store if I had to and picked up a box and had a nice delicious orgasm while polluting my lungs. *sigh*

I really need to “just say no” to WalMart.