Target vs. Wal-Mart, the Cage Match

When it comes to spending your hard-earned dollar at the best price possible, let's face it: there are really only two choices anymore. Either you are one-stop shopping at the brainchild of Sam Walton or you're doing the same at the newer*, cleaner, friendlier, less deadly and certainly more red-colored Target.

* I don't know for an absolute fact that Target is a newer chain than Wal-Mart. Luckily, I am humorist and not a journalist so I can just make up shit and suffer no consequences. Nyaah nyaah nyaah.


Today, I left the house knowing I needed a few groceries, plus some wheel cleaner for my car. After about ten minutes I pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot, found a safe spot, then asked myself what in the Sam Hell I was doing there. For whatever reason, I just drove, zombie-like, right to Wally World. I have no idea why, as I have a miserable experience every single time I go, usually punctuated by a wait in line that could easily eclipse a college semester. So right then and there I pulled out of the parking lot and headed over to the brand-new Super Target.


Holy cow, what a difference!


In order to illustrate the disparity in the shopping experience between Wal-Mart and Target, I'll reveal to you, verbatim, actual quotes I've uttered in each store:


About the hottie factor:

At Target: "That chick is so damn hot I'll risk pretending I'm actually shopping for nail polish to check her out."

At Wal-Mart: "How on Earth can a woman block an entire aisle by herself?"*

*This is a true story. A few weeks ago I witnessed an, uh, "fitness-challenged" girl and her shopping cart manage to block an entire wide aisle by herself. If we ever want to get serious about illegal immigration, we should just station Wal-Mart shoppers on the Texas-Mexico border. It'll only take about five of them.


About the parking lot:

At Target: "Wow, there are a lot of shopping cart returns here."

At Wal-Mart: "Exactly how many damn handicapped spaces does a parking lot need?"


About the stocking of product:

At Target: "There is so much selection, I'm not sure which one to buy!"

At Wal-Mart: "Great, they have every item here except the one on sale."*

*The display model was available, but since it looked like it had been dropped into the Grand Canyon, hitting every boulder on the way down, I passed.


About the availability of cashiers:

At Target: "I think they have too many cashiers available. I guess I'll pick the hottest one."

At Wal-Mart: "What the hell is at the end of this line?!? Space Mountain?!?"


I think you can now see why, after suffering for so many years with Wal-Misery, I will from now on drive an extra ten minutes and shop at Target.


Hey, I wonder if I can get Target to pay me for this blog.



© 2008, Joseph Simmons

This column is protected by intellectual property laws, including U.S. copyright laws. Electronic or print reproduction, adaptation, or distribution without permission is prohibited. Ordinary links to this blog at may be posted or distributed without written permission.

I'll Take the Bland Chicken with a Side of Embarrassment, Please

My mother gets every Thursday off from work. She’s employed by the State of Florida, and some time ago they went to four 10-hour-a-day work weeks. In order to avoid a lot of office infighting, everyone was given the choice of having a free Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. Nobody was allowed to choose Monday or Friday, because everybody was going to want a Monday or Friday.


“But Joe,” you’re surely saying. “Certainly government employees are grown adults and can fairly agree on a way to assign who gets Mondays and Fridays off, right?”


Sure, and I just came home from a date with Keira Knightley. Government employees argue over everything. I worked for the government for two years, and if you “borrowed” someone’s stapler, you were risking getting shot. I can only imagine the riots that would ensue over trying to get the day you actually want off of work.


“But Joe, couldn’t they use seniority or—AAAUGGHHHH! MY EYES! MY EYES!!”


I apologize for using mace on you, but if you keep interrupting, I’ll never get this damn blog finished. Besides, the point of this essay isn’t shitty government employment; it’s the fact that my mother was off of work last Thursday, so she, my father (who’s retired) and I met for lunch at Olive Garden.


I hate to admit this, but I am a functional idiot when it comes to food. I don’t know what half the items are on any decent restaurant’s menu. The problem is exacerbated when the restaurant is a chain that supposedly makes food from a different country, because the shitheads in marketing are always going to make the dishes sound as “international” as possible. This is to convince you, the ordinary ignorant fat-ass American, that you are indeed spending your hard-earned money well. You see, you might not want to pay more than six dollars for “Baked Chicken Next to Vegetables”. But hey, ten bucks for “Venetian Apricot Chicken”? Sounds like a bargain!


To make things further complicated, I’m on a low-carb diet. That means I can’t have pasta.


Or tomato sauce.


In an Italian restaurant.


So, I have no idea what anything is, but I was secure in the knowledge that 95% of their food could possibly kill me. That’s why, when the server came, I just blindly pointed to a random item on the menu:


Server: “And what will you be having today, sir?”

Me: (Pointing randomly) “I would like this.”

Server: “You would like ‘Copyright Olive Garden 2008’?”

Me: “And please hold the tomato sauce.”


Actually, at her suggestion, I ended up ordering the Venetian Apricot chicken, which tasted like (surprise!) chicken. I tasted neither anything Venetian nor anything apricot about it. I did detect a hint of Swanson’s Microwave Dinner, though. At least my parents seemed to enjoy their meals.


One last anecdote before I end this pointless essay. Before eating my non-Venetian non-Apricot chicken, I excused myself to use the restroom and wash my hands. The first thing I said to myself upon entering it was, “wow, do Italians not have urinals in their restrooms?”


I’ll let you figure out what mistake I made and why I was apologizing profusely to several people about two minutes later.

When Grand Theft Auto is not a Game

Being the last one at the gym tonight, I offered to help the girl that works there close out by taking the garbage to the dumpster in the back. As I walked around the building to the front entrance, I took a quick glance at my car.

That wasn’t there.

Holy shit, I thought. Did I park in the back this time? Or further out?

I never park in the back, and my car was nowhere in the front to be found. Son of a bitch! My mind raced. What the hell did I leave in it? My cell phone? My wallet? Thank God I didn’t have my laptop in there! Damn damn DAMN! I just bought the damn thing a month ago! Now all I could think about is what my mom said the day I brought my car home: “You know, Honda Accords are one of the most-stolen cars in America.”

“Mom,” I said at the time. “I live in Cape Coral, not friggin’ Miami.”

I couldn’t believe that my mother’s concern had come to fruition. Pissed, I barged back in the gym, knowing I’d have to call the police and my insurance company. I was so distracted, in fact, that I tripped and nearly fell over…

…the bicycle I rode to the gym tonight.

Your Horoscope, with a Side of Attitude

I reached down deep inside my soul last night (I was looking for spare change), and I made an amazing discovery: I have the psychic powers of an astrologist! So I went outside and decoded the stars for all of their secret meanings. I was shocked to find that, well, the stars are a little surly. Regardless, you should definitely take my advice, because I’m an expert now. You can tell that I'm an expert because I'm writing this in italics.




Aries: Today you will be walking and you’ll sprain your vagina. Even if you don’t have a vagina, you’ll spontaneously grow one and then you’ll sprain it. In fact, you just now grew one. Look in your pants. See? Also, please keep it fresh. No one likes a nasty vagina.


Taurus: The stars have aligned in Uranus and they all agree that you’re a douchebag. You probably post too many damn notes or status updates. Be careful what you say to friends today, as it may used against you in a future argument. Though we honestly doubt you have any friends in the first place.


Gemini: Today you’ll be in a public restroom trying to get the electronic towel dispenser to give you more than a one-inch strip of paper. You’ll be waving and gyrating like a jackass while water drips down your forearms. People will walk in, see you, and decide that they "can hold it for a few minutes until the insane lunatic mime leaves". Our advice is to never wash your hands.


Cancer: The stars have aligned in your sky to give you the moon. Today you will receive a strange phone call on your mobile phone. The Caller ID will show that it’s one of those "976" phone sex numbers. You’ll answer it and find out that it’s your mother, who accidentally used the wrong phone. Our advice is to give us your mother’s phone number.


Leo: You seriously need a bath. The stench you are giving off could fell a bison. Even the stars are scrambling to get the hell out of your sky. Our advice is move back in with your mother, who’ll hopefully never let you leave the house unwashed. Or at all.


Virgo: Today you and a few of your friends will consider hosting a wine-tasting at your house. You’ll think it’s because you’re sophisticated and classy, but deep down you know it’s only because you want to get drunk off your ass while you’re also trying to kill your reputation as a bar whore. Our advice is to drop the pretentiousness and go ahead and host a six-kegger.


Libra: The stars have all aligned against you. You better watch out. The stars have been known to follow people, take pictures of them masturbating, and blackmailing them later. Our advice to you is to stop masturbating so damn much. And yes, we know what you do with the Ken Doll. Pervert.


Scorpio: When you go outside today, a bird will shit on your head. It is unavoidable; even if you stay indoors all day, a bird will fly inside to drop a deuce on your noggin. Fortunately, with respect to your attractiveness, this will be a huge improvement. Our advice is to go stand under a bird’s nest and wait for your makeover.


Sagittarius: Your stars have aligned in a middle finger formation. You will actually have a good day…until someone punches you in the clavicle. The person who hit you will yell, "YOU SUCK, ALFRED!" He’ll yell that even if your name is not Alfred. Our advice is to go to the government office and have your named changed to Alfred.


Capricorn: Today is the day for you to finally get the courage to walk up to that person you’ve been crushing on and telling him or her how you really feel. This way, he or she can officially reject you and finally have the justification the courts said he or she needed to file a restraining order. Our advice is to bring a camcorder and make sure to upload this to youtube.


Aquarius: Today is the day that someone who has been crushing on you will finally tell you how they feel. Believe us when we say: run like hell. That crazy ass will probably want to film it all and post it on youtube. We have no idea where these people get these shitty ideas.


Pisces: Your stars have aligned near Jupiter’s moon, which means you will be gassy all day. It might be a wise idea to carry around a can of Ass No Smell, placing it prominently on your desk or dashboard or wherever you happen to be. "Better safe than sorry!" is what you should tell everyone you encounter.





© 2009, Joseph Simmons



This column is protected by intellectual property laws, including U.S. copyright laws. Electronic or print reproduction, adaptation, or distribution without permission is prohibited. Ordinary links to this blog at may be posted or distributed without written permission.

Random Neural Firings on the Flight Home from Ohio

(I flew back home to Florida today from visiting my sister in Andover, Ohio. As usual, I was running late and brought no form of entertainment to get me through the long day of flying. I decided to make random observations and write them on a little pad I found in my laptop bag.).

First Flight:

1. I’m waiting at the gate to board for my plane, and one thing I notice is how nobody talks to anybody else. Everyone has an iPod, smartphone, or some other contraption to keep themselves from interacting with other people. No wonder we’re all getting A.D.D. I refuse to do this, so I spend my time imagining who I would choose if I were forced to pick one person here to have sex with. It is slim pickins. I go with a well-dressed blond lady who’s at least 47-years-old.


2. I’m finally seated on the plane. With any luck, these two seats next to me will stay empty. Either that, or some megababe will sit next to me. Though I don’t know where the hell she’d come from, because there sure weren’t any babes out in the gate.

3. No such luck. Some pretty boy throws his bag up in the overhead and sits on the aisle seat. Seconds later, a nerdy pear-shaped girl with glasses and a book I’ve never heard of sits in the seat between us. Before you get all upset with me for insulting this girl, please know that it won’t be long before I start convincing myself that Nerd Girl is sorta kinda hot.

4. I could never be a flight attendant. The one working our section is attempting to calmly explain to some middle-aged jackass that he has to wait to put his small laptop bag in an overhead compartment because it is a crowded flight and the bigger bags are priority. But he keeps lifting it up to the compartment anyway! “No sir,” she politely tells him. “I promise I will help you with your laptop, but you must wait.” If I were her, not only would I tell him where he could stick his stupid ass laptop, I would “help” him put it there.

5. On a flight home from Europe a few years ago, I ended up sitting next to a Russian fashion model that has her own line of clothing in Germany. She was stunning; I mean seriously freaking gorgeous. She also didn’t speak English worth a damn. Amazingly enough, we still talked for three hours. She knew just enough English that, with the help of a Russian/English dictionary, she could sorta figure out what I was saying. As for what she was saying, I really didn’t give a damn as long as I could look at her. Anyway, we exchanged numbers, emails, etc. and tried to keep in touch, but, well, how the hell do you do that when you don’t speak a common language? So, we never became anything other than occasional pen pals.

I told you that story because I have a theory: I think that you only get one hot chick in the seat next to you in your entire life. And I blew mine on a girl that speaks Russian, German, and Latvian but no Goddamn English. So now I’m stuck next to Pretty Boy and Nerd Girl.


6. Son of a bitch. A smoking hot blonde got on right before takeoff and sat down across the aisle from me…next to some dork. Where’s the justice in this world?


7. You know, with a little makeup and a new hairstyle, Nerd Girl could be kinda hot.


8. Pretty Boy is now reading Cosmo For Men. I had no idea such a magazine existed. Part of me thinks that he is a real vagina. The other part of me is just jealous that the bastard has something to read.


9. I’m trying to convince myself that Smoking Hot Blond only seems hot because of all the ugliness around her. I have failed to mention that the ugliness includes me. I haven’t showered yet today, my clothes are wrinkly, and I haven’t shaved in a week. I’m surprised none of the other passengers have thrown change at me. Or told me to get a job.


10. Dammit, we just landed in Atlanta and I have like 15 minutes to be on my next flight. I need to make like OJ Simpson through the airport to my gate. People older than 40 will know what I’m talking about. People under 30 will think I’m about to slash the throats of a blond and her young boyfriend.

Second Flight:

1. Well, I made it to my connecting flight, but I didn’t get to take a leak or grab something to eat. This flight is already starting to suck. Please please please at least give me a hottie to talk to. And something to eat.


2. Wonderful. I get two extras from “The Bucket List” sitting next to me. Whoa. Dammit! And the one directly next to me has B.O.! Of all the damn luck. Plus, I am very hungry.


3. HEY. GUY SITTING BEHIND ME. STOP READING OVER MY SHOULDER. THAT IS VERY IRRITATING. ALSO, HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I AM STILL FUCKING HUNGRY?


4. We’re in the air now, and I’m starting to think it is a good thing this guy next to me stinks. Because if he didn’t, I might’ve started eating him.


5. I now feel badly for the poor guy that was reading over my shoulder. I can hear the old man next to him blathering on about how they “used to do it in the military”. If I was back there, I’d have to strangle him like Schwarzenegger did to that one guy on a plane in “Commando”. Then I’d eat him.


6. Can they at least give me the damn bag of six peanuts they hand out?

7. Uh-oh. I think the guy next to me peeked at these notes. I wonder if he located on here how I make fun of his B.O. You know what? Serves him right. Maybe next time he’ll learn to locate his deodorant.

8. My God, this flight is taking forever. I just wolfed down those peanuts and almost swallowed the bag in the process. I still haven’t peed because I’m pretty sure it would be impossible to move these two corpses next to me so I can go to the lavatory.


9. I’ll probably post this in a separate blog, but my standup gig in Alliance, Ohio went fantastic. Nine comics performed, and everyone got great laughs. I met some new friends, and was excited to finally perform in front of my sister and brother-in-law. Like I said, I’ll post this in its own blog, but I am writing about this now in order to keep myself from eating my notepad and pen.


10. We’ve finally landed. I think I’ll kiss the Florida soil when I get out of this plane. Then I’ll eat some of it. Then pee on it.


11. Over the loudspeaker: “Please be careful when disembarking. Due to the rain, the ramp is wet. We care about you and don’t want you to get hurt.” Why is it whenever I they say “we care about you”, I hear “we don’t want to get sued by you”?


12. Home Sweet Home. I’m outta here.