Coffee and Style

I think that I am going to have to insist that Walmart introduce a dress code. As you are all aware I am as tolerant as the next Coffee Bitch but things are getting wildly out of control here in the Smalltown Walmart.

It is not that I have anything against chunk-wad ladies. As the boss has pointed out on many occasions I am no string bean myself, but ladies, please, that spandex lycra ski pant stuff does not look good on a 300 pound woman. You should also be aware that when you wash your ski pants the weave just gives up which means that when you bend over two things happen. The first is that my last shred of heterosexuality goes out the front door. The second is that the weave opens up and exposes those nasty cottage cheese sides of ham that you call thighs. In addition the Victoria’s Secret XXXXXXL thong that you are wearing becomes revoltingly obvious. God knows why VS should make a thong in this size where the largest piece of material is the label but please believe me ladies is does nothing for you. When your love muffin gets you shucked down to your skiddies, is he likely to say, “Wow those are such a turn on” (not that he can see them, buried as they are deep in the many, many folds of your special place) or is he more likely to say “OK Pet, fart and give me a clue”.

Talking of Victoria’s Secret I have just been given an award by them. Yes indeed this weekend I received a lifetime ban from all stores. It happened like this. I was hanging around the lingerie department, as is my want when one of the assistants asked me if I needed any help. Well it wasn’t likely that a size 0 waif was going to be able to help me so I told Miss Bulimic that I was just sniffing. I now know why they wear those pretentious little headsets as within seconds the manager was summoned. Any man who works in VS has to be gay so I wasn’t too worried when he told me that I had to buy something or leave. I picked up some sort of satin whisper of nothing and with my best endearing smile asked if he could model these for me. I didn’t know how many it was going to take to throw me out but I sure found out how many they had. Damn those Bigtown sophomores are hard little bitches all teeth, nails and knees to the groin. It quite reminded me of my wedding night and within seconds I was upside down on the sidewalk. Honestly some people have no sense of humor at all.

Finally we get to the point. Here is a spot of free advice for any lonely man who ain’t getting’ none. Buy yourself some nice black pants, a white short sleeve button down shirt, preferably with epaulettes and a black tie. You will also need a pager, the cheaper the better. Now get dressed and hang out outside Victoria’s Secret. As soon as you spot a fit looking piece of totty leaving, press the test button on the pager. She will stop and you explain to the object of your desire that you are the store detective and that she appears to have set the store alarm off. Now you cop a free feel as you pat her down, ostensibly looking for a smuggled out extra bra. The best part of this plan is that you get to grope only the best while letting Miss Walmart 2006 walk on by.

Yours in covetousness
TCB