Forget that Walmart hires walking brainstems to scan those little pencil looking bars across the blinking red thingie (the best explanation a Walmart clerk can give you for what their job is), forget that Walmart packs their aisles so full of junk you can scarcely maneuver around the five-fat-kid-family to retrieve your toothpaste, forget that the store layouts make as much sense as the mazes used by scientists to confuse genetically dumbed down rats, they sell crap. CRAP. My Ma (the best Ma in the whole wide world [and a reader of this blog eh-hem, eh-hem)]) was kind enough to buy me a set of sheets after my flood (all you people rolling your eyes and saying oh JEE-suss, not the fucking FLOOD again! go to hell, ko?). Those sheets were 300 thread count. They're sandpaper, I tell you, sandpaper. I've got 250 count sheets that feel better after a day at the beach. Further, they are bleaching out with each wash. They have big white spots all over, as though I washed them in bleach. I don't even own a bottle of bleach. I don't bleach anything. It's just the crap dye used in the crap sheets. AND, they do not even fit my pillow top mattress. Is there any mattress on this green earth that is not a pillowtop besides the po' college student Futon? Anyway, Walmart, they sell crap. CRAP. If you wanna save 5 cents on your toilet paper, go ahead. In the meantime, I'm going to TARGET!