Mecca of Mega

"Hey don't you wanna run and call her name. If I buy her candy, will she know who I am? She's famous. She's the best. cannot lay my heart to rest." Sleater-Kinney from "Buy Her Candy"

As the nurse came in with today's Dixie Cup of utter happiness I caught a whiff of something foreign under her normal blanket of Channel No. 5, which happens to be my favorite scent. What my nostrils detected was a fragrance that tickled my palette. It had high notes of worldly spice, perhaps jalapeno. Yes, I was sure upon further sniffing that what she smelled of was indeed microwave burrito, bulk microwave burrito to be precise. And that got me thinking.

Yesterday SuperMom, my sister, and I made one of the great consumer pilgrimages of our time. We took two chairs out of the back of the Tahoe and headed up highway 77 towards Pineville, North Carolina, home of the nearest Sam's Club. A fine place to shop if one has self control and a plan. Otherwise, it's mayhem.

There is something about a huge warehouse filled with row and row of overly processed foods that will do nothing but increase ones risk of heart disease and poverty, that makes my heart go pitter patter. It may be the cholesterol choking my arteries to the size of Nicole Richie's waist, but I prefer to think it's the adventure causing my cardiac arrest. What strange food like product will I spy in a vat large enough for one of those two headed embryos that adorn the walls of Science classrooms nationwide? What will it be? Onions in sauce? No clue as to what that sauce might actually be. Vienna sausage by the pallet? Who needs that many pickled sausages? The imagination boggles at the mere thought of what is waiting down each aisle.

If the wonder of discovery doesn't do it for you then I know you're there for the free samples. Each weekend an army of hair net clad geriatrics are posted like cholesterol causing Sentries, lobbing deep fried pizza roll bombs at you as if it were the Tet offensive. One will be doling out the appetizers, another a freezer burned fruit substance, one aisle over you can feast on the remains of a convenience dinner, and then you wrap it all off in the bakery section for cookies or cake. It's a four course meal. Go hungry, leave happy. And perhaps you have never tasted an Aussie Pie in your life, after being assaulted by the sample gals sales pitch you are now the proud owner of two boxes of freezer stuffing goodness.

Shelf after shelf of canned this and bottled that, surrounding what can only be described as a fashion center worthy of yard sale greatness. These togs shouldn't be worn by anyone, not the humblest fruit picker. There is far better clothing available at the nearest thrift store. With this fashion disaster is a promenade of "How To" books with enough titles to fill, well, a warehouse. You can learn everything from Butchery to Douchebaggery from these tombs, all for 45% off retail pricing. And isn't knowledge power. The best book I saw there was one on the mortal sins, and that made me laugh. Here is a store that prey's on our gluttony, feeds into our lust, and shatters a few of those coveting sins as well, and they sell a book that tells you how bad you are for making that place your temple. Because it is a religion all to itself, with exclusive members only access. It must be a religion, how else do you explain the never ending lines at the check out counter every Sunday?

For my part, I stuck to my plan of stocking the freezer with steroid and hormone injected meats and poultry. My only splurge item, a huge can of chili to help feed my Jones for chili fries. Hey, you gotta sin a little.

Do you do the warehouse experience? What's the strangest item you've ever bought? Or the greatest splurge purchase?

Dixie Cup of Love: Sam.