Dear Facebook Diary (4/24/12)

I love Wal-Mart. I love Wal-Mart so much that I’m getting a little misty eyed just bringing it up. I make regular trips to Wal-Mart because I find that if I only buy groceries once a week or every other week then I end up buying a bunch of shit that I don’t need. So instead I make a quick run to Wal-Mart as soon as I realize that I need something. Also, the only thing that’s missing from Wal-Mart is the circus tent that should be placed over it because the entire store is a 24-hour freak show.

So I went to Wal-Mart today because as I was putting on my special edition Asics Onitsuka Ultimate Tiger running shoes in preparation for me to go to the gym and push some iron with the gumption of a motherfucking freight train I figured that I should start spraying my feet with some athlete’s foot spray before my workouts. I really don’t sweat much but my feet grow barnacles on them in the summer. I put on my workout gear and drove to Wal-Mart.

As soon as I got to Wal-Mart I remembered that I also needed some egg whites… and some coffee… and some frozen vegetables… and some grapefruit juice… and a moment ago I realized that I forgot to buy more toilet paper. As I was walking towards the isle where the podiatry sprays and creams were shelved I walked past the deodorant isle. In this isle was a man with no arms. He had small nubs where his arms were supposed to be but apparently they had never fully sprouted into arms or maybe he had already gone to the gym to push iron with the gumption of a motherfucking freight train and he lifted such heavy weight that the weight ripped his arms off. I felt sorry for the guy but I was really interested as to why he was in the deodorant isle so I browsed the various deodorants to spy on him a bit.

First off, what the fuck is he doing in the deodorant isle? It’s gross to think that he wouldn’t wear deodorant and aside from the classic “how does he wipe his ass?” question I wondered how he would put the deodorant on. Second, he was alone. How the fuck did he get to Wal-Mart in the first place? He looked like he was in his late forties or early fifties so maybe some special service or a cab drove him to Wal-Mart, but then I looked at his feet. He was wearing a pair of running shoes that were tightly laced and tied to his feet. For a second I thought that this was smart because the guy has no arms so he must do a lot more walking than me and maybe he even walked to Wal-Mart, but no. The guy had a bit of a beer gut and he didn’t look like the walking type. I wear tennis shoes because I fucking walk everywhere and it isn’t like I use my arms for walking, so how would not having arms require more walking? It didn’t look like the shoes were loosely tied so he could just slip in and out of them either; these shoes were tightly fastened to his feet. This almost angered me. Slip on shoes can be quite stylish and if slip on shoes were invented for any particular demographic then they were specifically made for people without arms. I have arms and I still have three pairs of slip on shoes. Or he could wear Velcro shoes. Velcro shoes are made for toddlers and mongoloids but I wouldn’t give an armless guy an ounce of shit for wearing them because I fully understand that he can’t tie his shoes.

The armless guy noticed that I was looking at him and he smiled at me. I smiled back and then a moment later he saw me looking at his feet. Neither of us said “hello” or anything and he gave me a mean look. He stared me down like the deodorant isle was some kind of a party that I wasn’t invited to. What a dick. I wanted to ask him why he had a chip on his shoulder but then again he really didn’t have any shoulders. This dickhead continued to glare at me like he would be able to do something if I were to suddenly throw a punch directly into his goddamn solar plexus and knock the ever loving shit out him. I wanted to ask him what he would do to me if I were to throw him into a swimming pool while I sipped my gin and laughed as he struggled, and then when he had given up all hope I would add insult to injury by throwing him a rope to pull himself out.

I broke the uncomfortable silence by saying “hi”. He said “hi” in return and then I asked him if I could help him “grab” something. To him this was apparently the equivalent of me saying; “ha-ha, I have arms and you don’t!” because the way he said “No, I’m fine” just seemed rude. I wondered how the hell he would carry it to the register anyway since he wasn’t carrying a basket in his mouth or pushing a cart with his nose. I shrugged him off and bought my foot spray.

This is a mean hearted post and I know that disabled people make for easy targets as far as humor is concerned. Especially when those targets aren’t able to defend themselves by using their arms to block an oncoming punch or object. But if I should ever be in the position that I am physically disabled then I will become the biggest ass kisser on Earth because even after I have adapted to my disability and learned how to navigate the world within my newly limited bounds, I will still have to rely on others to help me at Wal-Mart.

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