I have been trying to avoid Costco for the past month or two because my husband and I had a budget meeting (bleh!), and it became apparent that Costco was stealing loads of money from us. I really should report them.
To get back at them for their thievery, I have been trying to stay away from their aisles of a million cans of food. And mouth-watering tortillas. And bags of popcorn as big as me. And samples that make it feel like I am getting a free meal, thus encouraging me to fill my cart to the brim with unplanned purchases.
Any reasonable person with a sophisticated palate would not be able to turn down a box of 48 pot pies if they got a taste of their deliciousness in the store. It is not just me. I am not a sucker. I am an educated woman who must feed six people (or shall we say bottomless pits), and 48 pot pies sometimes seem like the answer to my culinary prayers. Until I get to the register and they ask me for 463 dollars and 78 cents, please.
How do pot pies and tortillas add up to that insane amount of money? I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with the mountain of other boxes and bags that somehow migrate into my cart without my knowledge.
Like I said: stealing.
I tried to stay away; I really did. But I needed bacon, and I have discovered over the past few weeks that the bacon-like substance at Fry’s is a sorry substitute for Costco quality. Being a bacon snob, I had no other choice. Plus, I was hoping to look at Christmas trees since it is September and the holidays will be here any day now – right after the mercury drops below 105. (My husband is building a Christmas display for our yard as we speak, but that is hardly relevant to this conversation.)
Showing my membership card and walking through the massive doors was like coming home. I had to stop for a minute and breathe in that big warehouse smell. It rivals mountain air in its therapeutic quality.
I could almost smell the new products that were added in my absence so, of course, I had to walk down every aisle to find them. I had a crazy hunch that I might need a dog food sized bag of Thai Coconut Mini Crunch Bars to eat on my way home, even though I had never heard of those before my trip down the snack aisle. (They did not disappoint, by the way.)
While I was perusing, I saw this gem:
Where has this been my whole life? Bad Byron (whoever that is) has been holding out on me. Everybody who is anybody knows that a little Butt Rub makes everything better, and now there is a barbeque seasoning to prove it. My life is complete.
Being the proper and genteel mother than I am, I stopped laughing long enough to snap a picture of my new favorite Costco find and text it to my husband and teenagers. Because, like any responsible mom, I want my impressionable teens to learn that it is not appropriate to joke about such things as rubbing butts.
Perhaps, I failed in that attempt?
For a brief moment, I also considered purchasing the rub and including it in a care package for my missionary son. Hawaiians cook with a lot of pork, and this could be just what an island missionary needs to master preparing the local cuisine.
Or maybe not?
It took a great deal of self-restraint, but I put the container back on the shelf and walked away. I had more important things to buy, like bacon, and I was on a budget, after all.
After an hour of browsing and assessing wants and needs (chocolate vs. toilet paper…that is a hard one…), I somehow left the store having only spent $225.46. That may be a personal record, my friends – one that I was pretty darn proud of. But my sense of accomplishment was short-lived.
After I got home and unloaded my treasures into the fridge and pantry, my kids looked around and emphatically said, “Mom, there is nothing to eat! When are you going to the store?”
I give up! Since I am not willing to completely break up with the second love of my life (Costco), next time, I am buying the Butt Rub. At least then I will have something to laugh about when, after spending $225, there is apparently still nothing to eat.
Laughing is better than screaming every time.
