In the weeks following 9/11 34.8 million dollars in sales came from Chinese made American flags.

Wal-Mart is the largest retailer/grocery store/corporation in the history of planet earth and sells pretty much nothing that’s made in the states. Wal-mart is also trampling all over the world of mom-n-pop shops.

Republicans had just as much to do with NAFTA as Clinton did so please think twice before using that card.

Technorati Tags: american flags, grocery store, million dollars, mom, nafta, planet earth, pop shops, republicans, wal mart

I have no respect or use for this USA. I served but I now say "I’m sorry for what I have done to the world in the name of the USA. I will soon tear up my DD Form 214 on CNN and then spit on the American Flag. Then I will walk away very proud. Of course before I walk away proud I will wipe my feet on the red white and blue. This is my freedom and I’m going to use it. If you are a veteran you can respond to this. If you are not a Veteran then you can not say anything to me. I served 6 years for the right to step on my American flag. ( Note:..My American Flag was made in Communist China and bought at Wal Mart )

Technorati Tags: 6 years, american flag, cnn, communist china, dd form 214, freedom, veteran, wal mart

Blue States:
Home of good schools
Red States:
Homeskooled good

Blue States:
After the 9/11 attacks, put coffins in the ground
Red States:
After the 9/11 attacks, put magnetic flags on the car

Blue States:
Provide the "tax" part of "tax and spend"
Red States:
Provide the "spend on a new 8-lane highway to link a Wal-Mart
to the Olive Garden" part of "tax and spend"

Blue States:
Buys classic art
Red States:
Collect Beanie Babies

Blue States:
Believe God loves us and gave everyone free will to be different
Red States:
Believe God willed us to freely hate everyone different

Blue States:
Drinks pure water
Red States:
Can’t guzzle down enough of that
Bush’s Jesus Juice!
Blue States are full of wire rimmed glassed BMW driving professionals, where Red States are full of dumb hillbillys, God fearing, American hating citizens.

Technorati Tags: 9 11 attacks, beanie babies, blue states, bmw, bush, citizens, classic art, drinks, Flags, god, hillbillys, jesus, lane highway, olive garden, red states, wal mart

my day basically went like this

It was after school, and after lacrosse practice. I needed Scotch tape. I went to the Wal-Mart down the road to procure some. Little did I know that this would become a battle with my own sanity before I left. Now, I can’t say that I’ve been shopping for Scotch tape in recent memory, so I wasn’t exactly sure where to find it. My best guess placed me in the aisle with all of the household cleaning supplies. No go. So I went an aisle over to find some immigrant worker stocking paper towels. Clearly, this guy would know where to find the Scotch tape. Or, at least, that’s what I thought at first.
"Excuse me, Sir? I’m looking for Scotch tape," I say.
The man looks up from his work, standing up to a good three and a half feet tall. Apparently, this particular Wal-Mart was looking to meet its Oompa Loompa quota. " Scotch tape?" he asks?
"Yeah, Scotch tape."
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds. "Spray?" he confusedly replies.
Oh, Jesus. This was a mistake. "No, it’s not a spray."
So, Oompy Boy takes me back to the aisle I was just in, points into it, and declares "Spray." Then, he walks off. And so we have strike one. I set off again to locate somebody that both worked there AND spoke English, a task that would prove nigh-impossible. I eventually run into this old lady dragging a cart of boxes around. I ask her where the Scotch tape is. She replies that it’s either in the aisle I was just in, or in the aisle with the carpet cleaners. Well, I was just in the aisle I was just in, and couldn’t find the Scotch tape even with the assistance of a little orange man. I relayed this information to the lady.
She took me back to the aisle I was just in, anyways. I hate people.
As soon as the lady realized that there was not, in fact, any Scotch tape in this aisle, I was pointed in the direction of carpet cleaners about halfway across the store. I embarked on my journey at once. I soon arrived, but alas, no Scotch tape. The carpet cleaners section contained, amazingly enough, only carpet cleaners. Apparently not having suffered enough from my previous two encounters, I again set out to seek the assistance of a salesperson. Each attempt proved increasingly difficult, as salespeople at this particular Wal-Mart were about as elusive as naked women at the Neverland Ranch. I had made it all the way to pool supplies before I managed to catch up to one unable to scurry away from me before I could plead for help, possibly because her fat ass seemed to weigh in excess of a metric ton. I ask her where I can find some Scotch tape.
" Scotch tape?" she asks.
Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. "Yeah, Scotch tape."
"Check the cleaning supplies aisle over in groceries," she suggests.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly. I politely inform her that her suggested avenue had already been explored, and that she had best provide a more suitable answer before I buried my foot deep inside of her size-52 ass.
"Umm… hardware?" she says. This was not a more suitable answer. My reply, though nonverbal, seemed to convey my feelings on the subject. Long live the power of the facepalm!
So, Tubby walks me over to another sales assistant, who she then proceeds to ask, "Yo Quiero Scotch tape?"
The other associate turns to look at her and then, in perfect English, replies, "what’s Scotch tape?"
Oh, God. Butterball spent a few seconds trying to explain it to her before finally turning to me and again pointing me in the direction of hardware. Eager to be away from the hungry clutches of a hideous beast likely to eat me at her next feeding time, I left for hardware.
Upon entering hardware, I encounter a Hispanic lady that strongly resembled Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue, only with more tattoos and considerably less attractive. I asked her where I may procure so Scotch tape and was pointed towards automotives. Fine. Automotives sounded like a better idea than hardware, so I went to go check it out. Alas, still no Scotch tape. So, I head back to the hardware whore and demand that I be shown to the Scotch tape in automotive. She complies, and I back off to automotives with the bassist from Motley Crue in tow. She searches for a little while, but is unable to find the object of my desire. Another sales rep, who was apparently lord and master of the automotive section appeared and was flagged down for help by the bitch from hardware. After presented with the situation, the Queen of Automotive Land formally declared that Scotch tape had been discontinued.
Right. Scotch tape has been discontinued. And I’m the king of fucking Spain.
The Automotive Mistress begins a long speech about how unpopular products are discontinued after awhile and I will have nothing of it.

Technorati Tags: aisle, boxes, carpet cleaners, cart, excuse, household cleaning, immigrant worker, journey, memory, mistake, old lady, orange man, paper towels, quota, sanity, scotch tape, shopping, stares, stocking, wal mart

It was after school, and after lacrosse practice. I needed Scotch tape. I went to the Wal-Mart down the road to procure some. Little did I know that this would become a battle with my own sanity before I left. Now, I can’t say that I’ve been shopping for Scotch tape in recent memory, so I wasn’t exactly sure where to find it. My best guess placed me in the aisle with all of the household cleaning supplies. No go. So I went an aisle over to find some immigrant worker stocking paper towels. Clearly, this guy would know where to find the Scotch tape. Or, at least, that’s what I thought at first.
"Excuse me, Sir? I’m looking for Scotch tape," I say.
The man looks up from his work, standing up to a good three and a half feet tall. Apparently, this particular Wal-Mart was looking to meet its Oompa Loompa quota. " Scotch tape?" he asks?
"Yeah, Scotch tape."
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds. "Spray?" he confusedly replies.
Oh, Jesus. This was a mistake. "No, it’s not a spray."
So, Oompy Boy takes me back to the aisle I was just in, points into it, and declares "Spray." Then, he walks off. And so we have strike one. I set off again to locate somebody that both worked there AND spoke English, a task that would prove nigh-impossible. I eventually run into this old lady dragging a cart of boxes around. I ask her where the Scotch tape is. She replies that it’s either in the aisle I was just in, or in the aisle with the carpet cleaners. Well, I was just in the aisle I was just in, and couldn’t find the Scotch tape even with the assistance of a little orange man. I relayed this information to the lady.
She took me back to the aisle I was just in, anyways. I hate people.
As soon as the lady realized that there was not, in fact, any Scotch tape in this aisle, I was pointed in the direction of carpet cleaners about halfway across the store. I embarked on my journey at once. I soon arrived, but alas, no Scotch tape. The carpet cleaners section contained, amazingly enough, only carpet cleaners. Apparently not having suffered enough from my previous two encounters, I again set out to seek the assistance of a salesperson. Each attempt proved increasingly difficult, as salespeople at this particular Wal-Mart were about as elusive as naked women at the Neverland Ranch. I had made it all the way to pool supplies before I managed to catch up to one unable to scurry away from me before I could plead for help, possibly because her fat *** seemed to weigh in excess of a metric ton. I ask her where I can find some Scotch tape.
" Scotch tape?" she asks.
Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. "Yeah, Scotch tape."
"Check the cleaning supplies aisle over in groceries," she suggests.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly. I politely inform her that her suggested avenue had already been explored, and that she had best provide a more suitable answer before I buried my foot deep inside of her size-52 ***.
"Umm… hardware?" she says. This was not a more suitable answer. My reply, though nonverbal, seemed to convey my feelings on the subject. Long live the power of the facepalm!
So, Tubby walks me over to another sales assistant, who she then proceeds to ask, "Yo Quiero Scotch tape?"
The other associate turns to look at her and then, in perfect English, replies, "what’s Scotch tape?"
Oh, God. Butterball spent a few seconds trying to explain it to her before finally turning to me and again pointing me in the direction of hardware. Eager to be away from the hungry clutches of a hideous beast likely to eat me at her next feeding time, I left for hardware.
Upon entering hardware, I encounter a Hispanic lady that strongly resembled Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue, only with more tattoos and considerably less attractive. I asked her where I may procure so Scotch tape and was pointed towards automotives. Fine. Automotives sounded like a better idea than hardware, so I went to go check it out. Alas, still no Scotch tape. So, I head back to the hardware whore and demand that I be shown to the Scotch tape in automotive. She complies, and I back off to automotives with the bassist from Motley Crue in tow. She searches for a little while, but is unable to find the object of my desire. Another sales rep, who was apparently lord and master of the automotive section appeared and was flagged down for help by the ***** from hardware. After presented with the situation, the Queen of Automotive Land formally declared that Scotch tape had been discontinued.
Right. Scotch tape has been discontinued. And I’m the king of ******* Spain.
The Automotive Mistress begins a long speech about how unpopular products are discontinued after awhile and I will have nothing of it. I cut her off and ask if they have any of a product just like Scotch tape. I am taken and dragged deep into the bowels of automotives in search of this mysterious substitute. Automotives Whore points me towards some leather polish. Way to go. I take this moment to explain two thin
two things to her. First, leather polish is not Scotch tape, nor is it an acceptable substitute, nor is it even the same product. Secondly, the product on the shelf directly underneath what she had pointed me to was, in fact, Scotch tape. I then claim my prize with a satisfied grin upon my face.
"Well, that’s not the same kind," the Queen of automotives declared in an apparent attempt to save face.
Not the same kind? What the hell? It’s ******* Scotch tape! Granted, it’s Scotch tape for autos, but all that means is that the picture on the front of the can is a car seat instead of a sofa. Apparently, this was too much for my friend to handle. I removed myself from her presence in disgust. On the way back to the register, I decided to stop and get some glue. Even though I buy it frequently at Wal-Mart (I use it a lot), I had some difficulty locating it at this particular store. I did not, however, at any point stoop to asking salespeople for help finding it. Given my past experienc
i know…
wasn’t the best ending in my perspective

Technorati Tags: aisle, boxes, carpet cleaners, cart, excuse, household cleaning, immigrant worker, journey, memory, mistake, old lady, orange man, paper towels, quota, sanity, scotch tape, shopping, stares, stocking, wal mart

mine went something like this….

There is not a SINGLE competent individual employed within a 20-mile radius of my place of business. I am surrounded ENTIRELY by idiots and social rejects. I understand that I work in what is essentially Brooklyns’s armpit, but Jesus fucking CHRIST, everyone I see is nothing more than a pathetic waste of the nasty-ass body they inhabit.
It was my lunch hour. I needed Scotch tape. I went to the Wal-Mart down the road to procure some. Little did I know that this would become a battle with my own sanity before I left. Now, I can’t say that I’ve been shopping for Scotch tape in recent memory, so I wasn’t exactly sure where to find it. My best guess placed me in the aisle with all of the household cleaning supplies. No go. So I went an aisle over to find some immigrant worker stocking paper towels. Clearly, this guy would know where to find the Scotch tape. Or, at least, that’s what I thought at first.
"Excuse me, Sir? I’m looking for Scotch tape," I say.
The man looks up from his work, standing up to a good three and a half feet tall. Apparently, this particular Wal-Mart was looking to meet its Oompa Loompa quota. " Scotch tape?" he asks?
"Yeah, Scotch tape."
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds. "Spray?" he confusedly replies.
Oh, Jesus. This was a mistake. "No, it’s not a spray."
So, Oompy Boy takes me back to the aisle I was just in, points into it, and declares "Spray." Then, he walks off. And so we have strike one. I set off again to locate somebody that both worked there AND spoke English, a task that would prove nigh-impossible. I eventually run into this old lady dragging a cart of boxes around. I ask her where the Scotch tape is. She replies that it’s either in the aisle I was just in, or in the aisle with the carpet cleaners. Well, I was just in the aisle I was just in, and couldn’t find the Scotch tape even with the assistance of a little orange man. I relayed this information to the lady.
She took me back to the aisle I was just in, anyways. I hate people.
As soon as the lady realized that there was not, in fact, any Scotch tape in this aisle, I was pointed in the direction of carpet cleaners about halfway across the store. I embarked on my journey at once. I soon arrived, but alas, no Scotch tape. The carpet cleaners section contained, amazingly enough, only carpet cleaners. Apparently not having suffered enough from my previous two encounters, I again set out to seek the assistance of a salesperson. Each attempt proved increasingly difficult, as salespeople at this particular Wal-Mart were about as elusive as naked women at the Neverland Ranch. I had made it all the way to pool supplies before I managed to catch up to one unable to scurry away from me before I could plead for help, possibly because her fat ass seemed to weigh in excess of a metric ton. I ask her where I can find some Scotch tape.
" Scotch tape?" she asks.
Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. "Yeah, Scotch tape."
"Check the cleaning supplies aisle over in groceries," she suggests.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly. I politely inform her that her suggested avenue had already been explored, and that she had best provide a more suitable answer before I buried my foot deep inside of her size-52 ass.
"Umm… hardware?" she says. This was not a more suitable answer. My reply, though nonverbal, seemed to convey my feelings on the subject. Long live the power of the facepalm!
So, Tubby walks me over to another sales assistant, who she then proceeds to ask, "Yo Quiero Scotch tape?"
The other associate turns to look at her and then, in perfect English, replies, "what’s Scotch tape?"
Oh, God. Butterball spent a few seconds trying to explain it to her before finally turning to me and again pointing me in the direction of hardware. Eager to be away from the hungry clutches of a hideous beast likely to eat me at her next feeding time, I left for hardware.
Upon entering hardware, I encounter a Hispanic lady that strongly resembled Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue, only with more tattoos and considerably less attractive. I asked her where I may procure so Scotch tape and was pointed towards automotives. Fine. Automotives sounded like a better idea than hardware, so I went to go check it out. Alas, still no Scotch tape. So, I head back to the hardware whore and demand that I be shown to the Scotch tape in automotive. She complies, and I back off to automotives with the bassist from Motley Crue in tow. She searches for a little while, but is unable to find the object of my desire. Another sales rep, who was apparently lord and master of the automotive section appeared and was flagged down for help by the bitch from hardware. After presented with the situation, the Queen of Automotive Land formally declared that Scotch tape had been discontinued.
Right. Scotch tape has been discontinued. And I’m the king of fucking Spain.
The Automotive Mistress begins a long speech about how unpopular
none of this shit actually happened…

sorry

Technorati Tags: aisle, armpit, carpet cleaners, excuse, fucking christ, household cleaning, immigrant worker, lunch hour, mile radius, nasty ass, old lady, orange man, paper towels, place of business, quota, sanity, scotch tape, stares, stocking, wal mart

mine went something like this

There is not a SINGLE competent individual employed within a 20-mile radius of my place of business. I am surrounded ENTIRELY by idiots and social rejects. I understand that I work in what is essentially Brooklyns’s armpit, but Jesus fucking CHRIST, everyone I see is nothing more than a pathetic waste of the nasty-ass body they inhabit.
It was my lunch hour. I needed Scotch tape. I went to the Wal-Mart down the road to procure some. Little did I know that this would become a battle with my own sanity before I left. Now, I can’t say that I’ve been shopping for Scotch tape in recent memory, so I wasn’t exactly sure where to find it. My best guess placed me in the aisle with all of the household cleaning supplies. No go. So I went an aisle over to find some immigrant worker stocking paper towels. Clearly, this guy would know where to find the Scotch tape. Or, at least, that’s what I thought at first.
"Excuse me, Sir? I’m looking for Scotch tape," I say.
The man looks up from his work, standing up to a good three and a half feet tall. Apparently, this particular Wal-Mart was looking to meet its Oompa Loompa quota. " Scotch tape?" he asks?
"Yeah, Scotch tape."
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds. "Spray?" he confusedly replies.
Oh, Jesus. This was a mistake. "No, it’s not a spray."
So, Oompy Boy takes me back to the aisle I was just in, points into it, and declares "Spray." Then, he walks off. And so we have strike one. I set off again to locate somebody that both worked there AND spoke English, a task that would prove nigh-impossible. I eventually run into this old lady dragging a cart of boxes around. I ask her where the Scotch tape is. She replies that it’s either in the aisle I was just in, or in the aisle with the carpet cleaners. Well, I was just in the aisle I was just in, and couldn’t find the Scotch tape even with the assistance of a little orange man. I relayed this information to the lady.
She took me back to the aisle I was just in, anyways. I hate people.
As soon as the lady realized that there was not, in fact, any Scotch tape in this aisle, I was pointed in the direction of carpet cleaners about halfway across the store. I embarked on my journey at once. I soon arrived, but alas, no Scotch tape. The carpet cleaners section contained, amazingly enough, only carpet cleaners. Apparently not having suffered enough from my previous two encounters, I again set out to seek the assistance of a salesperson. Each attempt proved increasingly difficult, as salespeople at this particular Wal-Mart were about as elusive as naked women at the Neverland Ranch. I had made it all the way to pool supplies before I managed to catch up to one unable to scurry away from me before I could plead for help, possibly because her fat ass seemed to weigh in excess of a metric ton. I ask her where I can find some Scotch tape.
" Scotch tape?" she asks.
Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. "Yeah, Scotch tape."
"Check the cleaning supplies aisle over in groceries," she suggests.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly. I politely inform her that her suggested avenue had already been explored, and that she had best provide a more suitable answer before I buried my foot deep inside of her size-52 ass.
"Umm… hardware?" she says. This was not a more suitable answer. My reply, though nonverbal, seemed to convey my feelings on the subject. Long live the power of the facepalm!
So, Tubby walks me over to another sales assistant, who she then proceeds to ask, "Yo Quiero Scotch tape?"
The other associate turns to look at her and then, in perfect English, replies, "what’s Scotch tape?"
Oh, God. Butterball spent a few seconds trying to explain it to her before finally turning to me and again pointing me in the direction of hardware. Eager to be away from the hungry clutches of a hideous beast likely to eat me at her next feeding time, I left for hardware.
Upon entering hardware, I encounter a Hispanic lady that strongly resembled Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue, only with more tattoos and considerably less attractive. I asked her where I may procure so Scotch tape and was pointed towards automotives. Fine. Automotives sounded like a better idea than hardware, so I went to go check it out. Alas, still no Scotch tape. So, I head back to the hardware whore and demand that I be shown to the Scotch tape in automotive. She complies, and I back off to automotives with the bassist from Motley Crue in tow. She searches for a little while, but is unable to find the object of my desire. Another sales rep, who was apparently lord and master of the automotive section appeared and was flagged down for help by the bitch from hardware. After presented with the situation, the Queen of Automotive Land formally declared that Scotch tape had been discontinued.
Right. Scotch tape has been discontinued. And I’m the king of fucking Spain.
The Automotive Mistress begins a long speech about how unpopular

Technorati Tags: aisle, armpit, carpet cleaners, excuse, fucking christ, household cleaning, immigrant worker, lunch hour, mile radius, nasty ass, old lady, orange man, paper towels, place of business, quota, sanity, scotch tape, stares, stocking, wal mart

my day basically went like this

It was after school, and after lacrosse practice. I needed Scotch tape. I went to the Wal-Mart down the road to procure some. Little did I know that this would become a battle with my own sanity before I left. Now, I can’t say that I’ve been shopping for Scotch tape in recent memory, so I wasn’t exactly sure where to find it. My best guess placed me in the aisle with all of the household cleaning supplies. No go. So I went an aisle over to find some immigrant worker stocking paper towels. Clearly, this guy would know where to find the Scotch tape. Or, at least, that’s what I thought at first.
"Excuse me, Sir? I’m looking for Scotch tape," I say.
The man looks up from his work, standing up to a good three and a half feet tall. Apparently, this particular Wal-Mart was looking to meet its Oompa Loompa quota. " Scotch tape?" he asks?
"Yeah, Scotch tape."
He stares at me blankly for a few seconds. "Spray?" he confusedly replies.
Oh, Jesus. This was a mistake. "No, it’s not a spray."
So, Oompy Boy takes me back to the aisle I was just in, points into it, and declares "Spray." Then, he walks off. And so we have strike one. I set off again to locate somebody that both worked there AND spoke English, a task that would prove nigh-impossible. I eventually run into this old lady dragging a cart of boxes around. I ask her where the Scotch tape is. She replies that it’s either in the aisle I was just in, or in the aisle with the carpet cleaners. Well, I was just in the aisle I was just in, and couldn’t find the Scotch tape even with the assistance of a little orange man. I relayed this information to the lady.
She took me back to the aisle I was just in, anyways. I hate people.
As soon as the lady realized that there was not, in fact, any Scotch tape in this aisle, I was pointed in the direction of carpet cleaners about halfway across the store. I embarked on my journey at once. I soon arrived, but alas, no Scotch tape. The carpet cleaners section contained, amazingly enough, only carpet cleaners. Apparently not having suffered enough from my previous two encounters, I again set out to seek the assistance of a salesperson. Each attempt proved increasingly difficult, as salespeople at this particular Wal-Mart were about as elusive as naked women at the Neverland Ranch. I had made it all the way to pool supplies before I managed to catch up to one unable to scurry away from me before I could plead for help, possibly because her fat ass seemed to weigh in excess of a metric ton. I ask her where I can find some Scotch tape.
" Scotch tape?" she asks.
Oh, Jesus. Here we go again. "Yeah, Scotch tape."
"Check the cleaning supplies aisle over in groceries," she suggests.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly. I politely inform her that her suggested avenue had already been explored, and that she had best provide a more suitable answer before I buried my foot deep inside of her size-52 ass.
"Umm… hardware?" she says. This was not a more suitable answer. My reply, though nonverbal, seemed to convey my feelings on the subject. Long live the power of the facepalm!
So, Tubby walks me over to another sales assistant, who she then proceeds to ask, "Yo Quiero Scotch tape?"
The other associate turns to look at her and then, in perfect English, replies, "what’s Scotch tape?"
Oh, God. Butterball spent a few seconds trying to explain it to her before finally turning to me and again pointing me in the direction of hardware. Eager to be away from the hungry clutches of a hideous beast likely to eat me at her next feeding time, I left for hardware.
Upon entering hardware, I encounter a Hispanic lady that strongly resembled Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue, only with more tattoos and considerably less attractive. I asked her where I may procure so Scotch tape and was pointed towards automotives. Fine. Automotives sounded like a better idea than hardware, so I went to go check it out. Alas, still no Scotch tape. So, I head back to the hardware whore and demand that I be shown to the Scotch tape in automotive. She complies, and I back off to automotives with the bassist from Motley Crue in tow. She searches for a little while, but is unable to find the object of my desire. Another sales rep, who was apparently lord and master of the automotive section appeared and was flagged down for help by the bitch from hardware. After presented with the situation, the Queen of Automotive Land formally declared that Scotch tape had been discontinued.
Right. Scotch tape has been discontinued. And I’m the king of fucking Spain.
The Automotive Mistress begins a long speech about how unpopular products are discontinued after awhile and I will have nothing of it. I cut her off and ask if they have any of a product just like Scotch tape. I am taken and dragged deep into the bowels of automotives in search of this mysterious substitute. Automotives Whore points me towards some leather polish. Way to go. I t

Technorati Tags: aisle, boxes, carpet cleaners, cart, excuse, household cleaning, immigrant worker, journey, memory, mistake, old lady, orange man, paper towels, quota, sanity, scotch tape, shopping, stares, stocking, wal mart