I swear that’s what I feel like I’m going to do every time I’m unfortunate enough to have some kind of business at W-M (too often, since W-M’s put nearly everything else in town out of business). The most godawful, suffocating bouquet of reeking cheap perfume in the entire state can be found right at the local Wally World, and every one of the guilty parties hasn’t just put it on, they’ve fucking BATHED in it. It’s not just the old blue-hairs who might be forgiven because their sense of smell isn’t what it used to be–nope, it’s fat, sour-faced middle aged broads…the tired-looking woman with blonde hair so fried by bleach that it looks like straw, two or three ill-behaved brats in tow….young n’ bitchy “career women” (honest–career women shop at W-M) with cellphones glued to their ears since they’re obviously VERY important people and must be available at all times…pudgy-faced teenagers with eight pounds of baby fat hanging over the waistbands of their jeans….age is no boundary to offensiveness. Apparently they’ve never heard of olfactory adaptation and think that if they can’t smell it, neither can anyone else when in fact, they’re enveloping entire aisles in stinking fumes and can be detected from as much as 20 feet away. If I don’t make sure I have an inhaler, one of these days, I’m going to have a full-blown asthma attack and end up in the ER. Maybe I should, then get a lawyer. Why not–people have got settlements for doing stupid things that were their own faults before, so I probably could, too. This is, after all, the land of the frivolous lawsuit! 😉