Jaclyn Smith and Martha Stewart: Kmart Shoppers?

Sometimes I secretly wish I’d turn the corner in Kmart and find Martha standing there looking perfectly groomed, ready to point out the difference between copper and stainless steel cookware.  But she’s never there.  Or to find Jaclyn over in the lingerie department educating the ignorant on the fine differences between a cotton and satin panty.

But nay.  These things I do not find.  Nor can I find that cart with the blue light on the top that held the envied and lusted after clearance items.  There was nothing like the thrill of the chase.  I’d knock down a small child to get at those 99 cent Circus Peanuts and floral print vinyl tablecloth.  Oh.  And remember the popcorn machine?  You’d pay like 50 cents and get a bag of something that oddly tasted like the smell of unwashed feet.

And I believe I have a vague recollection of Zip tennis shoes.  They were like beacons…just begging for someone to come beat the snot out of you for being a fashion violator.  I may have owned a pair.  I cannot say for sure.  But this I know.  There was no beating…only reverence of my gaul and audacity to be so blatantly ugly.

Okay, back to the Kmart posers.  Martha and Jaclyn.  I have a hard time purchasing anything with their name on it.  Mainly because I don’t want to be a financial contributor to these heffers.  Anyway, Martha steals half my ideas.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was using illegal recording devices up in here.  The only difference is she takes my idea and renders it difficult and anal retentive.  And pompous.  I say paint the paper.  Martha says go out, kill a wild boar, drain its blood, collect said blood in the wooden bucket that you honed out of a sycamore tree.  Then you take that blood and create a vibrant hue of murder-red and you paint on that paper.  With a brush made of real horse and dog hair.  Anything less, and you are nothing but a sniveling imbecile.

Now about Jaclyn.  Every time I see her face, I want to do that Charlie’s Angels-gun-in-the-air-sexy-around-the-corner pose.  You know the one.  THIS one:

So I try to steer clear of her merchandise.  I don’t want to embarrass my kid by an involuntary karate chop that gets me expelled from a store I hate but always has exactly what I need when no one else does.

So are these money mongering divas Kmart-ers?  Oh heck to the no.  They fear us…and not the respectful kind of fear.  The puke-in-the-mouth kind of fear.  They have this.  I have no idea what they could be scared of…other than the layaway room that oddly resembles a prison holding area.  Not that I’d know.  But hey!  Maybe that was Martha’s contribution!  I’ll bet she was sitting there in a board meeting and held her pointer finger in the air, as to silence the room.

“People.  Now hear this.  In every Kmart store nationwide, there will be a room that resembles the one I was forced to sit in for 2 years.  It will be the layaway room.  The layaway room employees will dress in prison garb and sling degrading insults at the people who can’t manage their money and have to put stuff on hold.  Make this happen, so as not to displease me.”

I don’t care.  She doesn’t scare me.  Just last week I waited in the Kmart layaway room for 45 minutes so I could be first in line and beat the traffic.  I only put a couple of things in layaway.  Why?  Because I can.  It makes me feel like I’m getting away with something.

Now I have to go in there every two weeks and pay on my pile.  Lord knows I don’t want to lose those oven mits and licorice.


3 Responses

  1. another great one april….always can’t wait to read your posts when they pop up in my inbox….
    by the way – great podcast! meant to write you about that…

  2. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!! I desperately want my Grandmother to read this, but she will spit in my face and tell me “Martha is wonderful, darling, and if you can’t see that you are officially disowned.”

    And I got a kick out of it because “Kmart” holds a very … um… special place in my heart. 😀

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