who is costco's bitch? i am. . .

have you ever been to costco?  i love it so much, with it's aisles of televisions, ink pens, blenders, jewels, dog food, bagel bites, sweater vests, bulk cheese, kayaks, antacids, couches, fresh bread, video games, the audrey hepburn hatbox dvd collection, pregnancy tests, sinus irrigation kits, lentils by the pound, gasoline, and my FAVORITE favorite thing--food samples.  sometimes, if i'm a little low on money, i'll just go to costco for lunch.  i don't even mean to buy the hot dog and soda for $1.50, or the slice of pizza for $1.99.  i mean i will flash my membership card at the door, walk past the eye care center and the lawnmowers, walk straight to the cheese and salsa section to get a tortilla chip topped with hummus, then move to the dog food/cleaning products section to eat some pressed, breaded chicken in the shape of a circus animal.  next, the frozen foods aisle has a lady in a plastic hat handing out spinach ravioli (slimy).  If it's a thursday through sunday, there's a little old guy deeper into the aisle handing out 1/8" squares of cheese pizza.  the pizza is the apex. i like to take off my jacket after the first pizza sample, leave it in my cart in the next aisle, and sneak back to get more pizza looking like a different person.  on the backside of the hill is granola, vitamin water, and a tiny slice of protein bar for dessert.  i once took katie there for lunch on a date.  (it's not like i didn't pay for lunch, the dues are FIFTY DOLLARS A YEAR!)  however, i am not the only person who has found a free lunch at costco.  i accidentally went there on a saturday once, the day that all of the cheap rich  people have off.  beginning in the parking lot, chivalry and civility are dead dead dead.  waiting in my car with my blinker on, indicating that the spot i have been waiting for while the family of seventeen pile their purchases into the minivan,  a tiny, wrinkled old lady steals my spot.  then i get the finger from the frat boy behind me for sitting in the aisle.  i dodge a lady in a sparkly baseball hat with a fanny pack dangling from her neck on a cord to park in a spot fourteen miles from the entrance.  on my way in, a girl returns her cart and the cart attendant says, "thank you".  too quietly, i guess, because the girl says, "WHAT?" looking for a fight.  the attendant repeats, "thank you".  the girl says, "oh" and walks off.  inside, everyone is navigating their boat sized carts among the aisles, which isn't too bad until you get near a sample table, where the line looks like the girl's bathroom line at a professional sports event.  everyone brings their cart with them to the sample table, and things get a little out of hand.  as i was waiting for a turn at a little smoky, an old man in a riding cart hit me with his motorized basket.  I WAS STANDING STILL, and it hurt, and i said ouch.  the withered mister looked at ME like I was the problem.  then he followed me around for the rest of my visit giving me dirty looks.  i think he even tried to hit me again near the produce, but i can't prove it.  rounding the corner in the pharmacy, i find a lady telling herself out loud what a good deal the price of citrucel is. i feel a little crazy. on the plus side, everyone in there is wearing sweatpants, so i feel kind of pretty, as well.  I feel pretty in two places, costco, and the salvation army.

finally, i get in one of the two open lines with three items:  pens, dishwashing liquid, and turkey jerky for dogs.  the guy in front of me starts writing a check.  a check!  who the hell writes checks anymore?  enter into the 21st century, jerk.  okay, okay, i'm a little crabby, i need some caffeine.  i head to the snack center to buy a diet coke ($0.68), and the girl in front of me is getting a berry smoothie AND WRITING A CHECK!  for $1.85.  i hate costco.  i'm never coming back.  i say this every time.  and then, like a battered wife, after a little time has passed, i think of all of the nice things about costco, and how when it's good it's really good, and how much i really do love it, and then i start to miss it a little.  and then i go back, because i need a giant bag of sun chips, and a floatie for the swimming pool, and a brick of cheese, and some floor mats for my car, and then someone's kid hits me in the back of the knee with a wiffle bat, and i quit costco all over again.  i was complaining to my friend traci about all of these things, and traci asked me, "why do you even need to go to costco?  don't you live alone?"  shut up, traci.