Dear Super Wal-Mart,
I know that you are too easy of a target.
I take that back. I could never say "Target" in the same sentence as I say "Super Wal Mart." That would be like comparing a Renoir to a velvet portrait of two gladiators fighting Fat Elvis.
Just to be clear, Super Wal-Mart, you are the Velvet Elvis, not the Renoir.
I love everything about Target---the dollar aisle, the trendy discount clothing, the Archer Farms trail mix, even the Target-brand facial soap. I don't love, however, the fact that I am incapable of leaving the store without dropping over one hundred dollars.
Conversely, I hate everything about you, Wal-Mart. I know that there are industries dedicated to mocking Wal-Mart, so I am not exactly plowing new ground here. Nevertheless, I hate the noise, the rows upon rows of processed food-like-substances and those Godforsaken demonic happy faces.
Every single time I go to Wal-Mart there is a surly teenager wearing a cape and a baby drinking Mountain Dew. I don't judge, because I watched Owen devour an entire chocolate bunny in one sitting yesterday, and I thought I was incredibly bad-ass in my Doc Martens back in high school.
But, still. Wal-Mart: you crush my soul, just a bit, every. single. time.
Yet, dammit, I save so much money that my Scrooge-like tendencies win again and again. Frozen peas, yogurt, cheese, cream of tartar---they cost so much less, and it's the same stuff. We save at least forty dollars a week buying our groceries from you.
I wish I knew how to quit you.
Remember, Super Wal-Mart, that while I patronize your store and increase your bottom line, deep down, I am not one of you. I will be with you, but I will never join you. Never.
With much disgust,
Hook up with adrienzgirl to write your own "love letter."