It’s getting to be summertime now and the last of our ski resorts is just weeks away from closing. In fact, thanks to WordPress’s customized publishing function, while you’re reading this post I’m hammered. Oh, and also up at the resort maybe doing a bit of riding. We’ll see. Anyway, the start of summer means that the group of super-close tight-knit friends that I ride with during winter will totally disappear from my life until early October. It’s true friendship, I’m telling you.
Usually, I just sit around and sulk or travel so much I don’t have time to sulk, but this summer I’m going a different route and decided to search for a new community of potential friends, be it through sports, recreational activities that don’t involve flying balls, or a group sharing common interests. When I didn’t find anything that interested me and/or was at my level of athleticism (think fourth-grade chess), I gave up and joined Sam’s Club. I like to shop, I like to eat, and I have nothing against Sam, so I figured I’d get in on his club. Plus, he accepted me, which is always questionable.
Very soon after being informed of my acceptance, I decided to make my first trip and check out this new, exclusive club of which I had become a part. It was a club alright! A dirty, overweight, and desperate club that made me want to shower halfway through making the full store rounds. It was an experience that really stimulated my imagination, trying to figure out a) whether all those kids belonged to that one lady, b) where the hell that family of 12 was going to store the 4 carts-full of food they had amassed with their grubby fat paws, and c) where the hell the condoms were located and why they weren’t more prominently displayed. Obviously, I had found my home.
That day, I spent an hour at the “food court” just trying to get a feel for my new friends and things we may have in common. Aside from an apparent love of nachos with fake cheese, it looks like my new friends and I share a few loves, including 2 pounds of peanuts, 4 jumbo bags of pretzels, and a suitcase of Coors Light. If that’s not friendship I don’t know what is, and the way I see it, the hotter it gets out there the grosser it gets here, and I’m all over that shit, especially when I have a blog to run and the 2-pack of industrial-sized Lucky Charms is on sale. Don’t worry, I won’t be the only one all over that shit.