my name is bob, and i suffer from priceclubobia.
everytime i venture into one, there is always someone checking out with a four year supply of mustard, tums, and toilet paper, which makes me worry, do they know something i don't know?
what possible terrorist plot have they been tipped off to?
some sort of super grinder that churns the world's food supply into hotdogs?
so i leave in a huff to warn loved ones, whom i have fewer of now because of all my previous false alarms.
it's a terrible, lonely disease that i battle one shopping trip at a time.
1 comment:
You should see what happens down here in Florida when a storm is even mentioned...the little yellow bags go over the gas pumps immediately, and all the water, batteries and other storm survival necessities, like beer and snacks, disappear off the shelves.
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