Freak-a-leek

We went to Walmart tonight. Don't ask why. You know I'm anti-Walmart, but sometimes there's just no other place open to buy tires and wine at the same time. Our local Walmart is especially vile because 1. it's always disgustingly busy regardless of the time of day or day of the week, and 2. it seems to draw the most interesting specimens out of the woodwork.

Tonight we saw a middle-aged man with an impressive ponytail that would've made Walker, Texas Ranger weep with joy. He also wore camouflage pants and a sizeable pocket knife. He smiled at me as he browsed through $5 DVDs.

The best one today, though, was a drunk with (I swear) a tattoo of a smiley face on the end of his nose. Ok, I can't prove it was a tattoo. God almighty, I hope it was only pen or something, but this little part of me just knows it was a tattoo...the kind of thing done hastily on a dare for $10 and a case of Busch Light.

It's people like that that make me feel obligated to have children of my own one day. Someone has to step up to help keep the delicate balance in the epic humanitarian battle against stupidity.