Dollar Tree

I had to pick up a few frames today and thought that a dollar store would be a great place to start. I love bargains, I love the idea that no matter what you pick up in the entire store, you can be certain that it will cost exactly $1.00 (and be worth about half of that.) So after burning a homemade pizza, I got in the car and went to Dollar Tree.

What a treasure trove of useless crap! After getting my frames I walked around a bit figuring I could use a few other things. In the "paper goods" aisle a woman stood in beside of her shopping cart with her little kid tucked in the front seat. The kid was eating a McDonald's hamburger (identified by scent alone, cause I roll that way) and proceeds to shove it in his mother's face. Well, she obviously has raised this kid and knows his likes and dislikes, because without a word, she picks off the two measly pickles. And then... she throws them on the floor. The carpeted floor. Of a store. That she does not own. Ummm yea, I'm going to ignore that, look at your calendars from 2005 and be on my way.

Tra la la la, up to the counter to pay for my stuff and there is a woman with another kid also eating fast food. hmmm, interesting correlation perhaps? The second, unrelated brat proceeds to dump his french fries on the carpet and the mother does not even flinch. So I do what every other passive aggressive bystander would do... I looked around with wide eyes and the accusatory expression "Uh this lady's kid is fucking your store up... Does anyone want to say something?" Answer: nope.

Okay, so your kids a slob and you don't care. But when the woman was prompted to input her pin code for the debit card she was using, she proceeded to look at her card dumbly, and then attempt to enter the sixteen digit code on the front of the credit card. Welcome to America. Enjoy your stay in the 21st century. If you actually have a checking account I would imagine that you should be educated enough to figure out how this little piece of plastic works. I mean even my grandmother who refers to credit cards as "charge plates" knows how to wield a bank card.

Sigh.

I leave the store and enter the Disneyland that is my brain thinking little Vicky thoughts to myself... "Hmm, I wonder if we need Windex I should really do laundry My feet feel funny I like the color Green" while walking between the cars in the parking lot. Then it happened.

(I should preface this next bit by saying I have never ever ever been afraid of dogs nor animals without wings and fangs for the most part.)

One of the largest Doberman/Pitbull mixes known to man simultaneously starts barking and proceeds to throw its entire body at the window of the car beside me. It's a harsh way to enter back into reality so I literally bit one and fell onto my ass beside the car with Cujo inside of it. When I frantically got up, with the demonic beast still ferociously barking and slamming its 150+ pound body at the door I realized that there was a crack in the window.

Hmmm, vicious attack dog trying to eat me + broken window = me running, nay dodging and weaving through the series of parked cars while also attempting to get my keys out. When I finally made it back into the safety of my car I realized that this dog, this beast could very well be hunting me down and I better hightail it out of there.

I can't even begin to address the issue of bringing a dog, bred for guard-dog purposes, to a store and then shutting it up in a car in the heat. But I can address the purpose that if I was witness to the entire scene I would have been shocked and more than amused.

All in all, a traumatic view of another side of life, but damn did I get me some cheap picture frames.