costco

I know America loves Costco.  If it makes me un-American to hate those fuckers, then that is fine by me.  I believe I have many reasons to dislike them, but my current one really chafes my behind…  Literally.

Now I am not one of those people that uses literally when they mean “figuratively.”  Screw those people too.  No, I mean literally.  The last time Mrs. Rodius dragged me to that god forsaken place, I was trying to do the gentlemanly thing and lift the heavy items for my wife whom is 9 months pregnant.  I know… Husband Of The Year.

Well instead of the fluffy, soft, seemingly-hand-quilted, toilet paper made by the fine people at Charmin, I picked up the 50 grit Kirkland brand sand paper not fit for an incarcerated child molester’s backside.  Holy crap! Is this why the poor people in mid-west are always so uptight?  They aren’t simpletons after all, they just can’t afford to buy the good stuff.  I’d be mad at the world and looking to Christ as well if I began and ended my day with this stuff everyday!  Lord save me!

Now I am stuck with the fucked up choice of do I ride this Carnie Wilson sized pack of torture paper out, because I paid for it after all.  Or do I give in and spend more money and go get the good stuff?  Fuck you Costco!  I feel like the only true way to get even for my pain and suffering is to take some the half-doody-half-blood stained cat tongue textured paper down to my local Costco and drop it on their front step. Then fly a little flag in the center of it stating “Kirkland is not even fit for my ass!”

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