Friday, September 23, 2011

No. 137: "Places I Shant Go."

I try to stay open minded when it comes to most things. I have almost four black friends, listen to both parties' stances on political issues and pretend to tolerate children when around attractive females. But, there are a few places that I refuse to go to based on my predetermined perception of them. Call it ignorance or premonition, but I stand unwavering on this issue. So, here is a list of a couple places you will never find me at. (Although, if I am ever falsely accused of a crime, I will most definitely hide out in one of these subsequent venues).

Religious Goods Store:
I'm not even sure what all they could possibly sell that I couldn't find at a tourist trap in Rocky Point. There's only so many ways you can bedazzle a cross and embroider Mother Mary. I fear that an alarm would go off as soon as I entered the store and I would be kindly escorted to hell by a very nice old lady. I know they have a "wide" selection of books at these stores; ranging from: How To Turn Your Gay Son Straight With Jesus to Properly Baptizing Your Golden Retriever. I think it would be fun to walk into the store with a backpack full of hardcore porn and slyly place it between some of the selected religious readings. Hell, I welcome thee.

Food City:
For those not familiar with Food City, I will briefly explain their layout. Basically, Food City is a supermarket if it was based in Mexico. The floors are made of dirt, the produce has gone south weeks ago, and they do not have air conditioning. It is where you shop if the Dollar Store is out of your price range. Food City is a perfect place to witness an 8th grader give birth or contract hepatitis. Instead of a friendly courtesy clerk willing to help you with your shopping needs, they have angry chollos staring you down as their home boys jack your ride. They have a fine selection of meats as well. Whether you prefer house pet or donkey sack, the selection is almost limitless. It makes Wal-Mart looks like Neiman-Marcus. I'll take off my white hood now.

Food City's fine selection of produce.
Luby's Cafeteria:
I find it interesting how if a business abridges the "-teria" in their name they instantly become quaint and appropriate for people who own dress shoes. Whenever I hear the word "cafeteria" I am instantly relegated to my formative years as an elementary school kid eating gruel for lunch daily; but I've already gone over that. I'm not fond of any restaurant that serves food on trays, unless it's a Vegas buffet and I'm blackout drunk. I can't imagine anyone taking a potential mate on a first date to Luby's Cafeteria. Unless, they were trying to win a reality show where the goal was to see how little time it would take before your date "had to go because her friend needed her."

Boot Repair Store:
You'll see these in many tourist-friendly shopping centers throughout the southwest. I have never owned a pair of boots, since I live in the 21st century and drive a car to work, not a horse. The only time I will even think about wearing a pair of boots is if I am attending a western-themed party and need to complete my shit-kicker outfit. Even then, I'll still probably rock a pair of Converse. Another thought: How are these businesses profitable? Are boots being damaged this frequently? I have a feeling they're just fronts for backdoor meth labs.

Guitar Store:
First of all, I have absolutely no musical talent (just ask anyone who has seen me drunkenly perform "Don't Stop Believing" on karaoke night). So, I have no need to go into a guitar store in the first place. But, I have been to these types of stores before with friends who actually have talent. You'll be welcomed by a burnout in his mid-40's trying his best to ignore your presence. While you walk around and browse their selection of instruments, said burnout will tell you not to touch anything even though there are already five signs saying the exact same thing. When asked a question, the burnout who still thinks his garage band "is gonna make it" will use a supercilious tone to belittle you. You and your buddies will then walk out, exchange disparaging remarks about the burnout's lack of hair and never go back there again. You'll find better customer service at the DMV.

How's it going? I'm a dick.


Unless I'm trying to pick up twelve year-old whores in training I have no need to be within fifty feet of a Claire's (also, it is court ordered). When I look from afar into these "tween goods stores" all I see is useless shit that I will be forced to buy any of my three daughters and effeminate son down the road (payback from the man upstairs for being a blatant misogynist, I suppose). I'm certain that as soon as you walk through the door, a thick coating of fruity body spray and glitter is laid upon you as a later-day form of tar-and-feathering. Personally, I would have a better chance finding something I could use for myself at a blind German bookstore.

Indian Jewelry:
You'll see these in travel-through towns on your way to cities with running water and women with a full set of teeth. I'd rather my home be blanketed in baby poop green than have even a square inch of my humble abode be tainted with turquoise. Dream catchers, wooden sculptures and wool blankets covered in smallpox are not on my list of must-need items. Thanks, but no thanks, Running Bear. I guess I don't have the aesthetic eye for this segment of the art world. When I'm on the road, only two things will get me to pull over: a cop and beef jerky.

Christopher Columbus was not a fan of Indian Jewelry.

Vegan Restaurants:
Why would you want a delicious, filling meal when you could have diarrhea for two weeks? I can deal with vegetarians for the most part; as long as they aren't talking. But, vegans are the Westboro Baptist Church of the dietary practices. I do not consider anything a meal unless it has meat in it. That includes dessert. I'm not even sure what would be on the menu. All I know is that whatever they put in their food makes their customers immediately menstruate to a super-flow level. I think it would be fun to walk into one of these restaurants with an adorable bunny rabbit. I would hold a gun to the rabbit and force one of the patrons to eat a hamburger. After much crying and yelling, they would finally succumb to my threat and take a bite. I would then shoot the rabbit and quietly let myself out. Lesson learned.

Those are just a few businesses I refuse to go to. I'm sure there's people out there that are in great need of repair to their worn-out boots covered in buffalo stool or enjoy eating food that will cause a riot in their colon; but not me. I'd much rather eat a steak at a nice restaurant, shop at a supermarket that doesn't accept pesos and buy a metric ton of beef jerky from a man with a wooden leg. What are some places that you will never go to?

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