Dear Costco

Dear Costco,

I recently wrote about how I wanted to hate/fuck Target, but I want to let you know, I want to straight up marry you and get you pregnant. I know, I know, it’s weird. But this is pure, unadulterated love. When your coupons come in the mail, I get a rumbling in my stomach, like that of a first date or a rank stomach flu. What’s on sale this month!? Come on, Kirkland Baby Wipes! I’m like a kid on Christmas, leafing through the booklet to see if Santa thought I was naughty or nice. A sale on Arm & Hammer Laundry Detergent? Apparently I have been a very, very nice. I’ll marry you too, Santa. Mrs. Claus is looking a little long in the tooth anyway.

It’s hard to describe the feeling I get when I enter, but it’s almost like the day of an exam back in school. I know I’m ready, but I’m still scared. Really, really scared. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I ponder whether my kids are going to survive the trip or melt down by the time they get to the freezer section like they did the last time. Usually, I’ve given them  a churro at the cafe outside because nothing improves behavior like fried sugar at like a buck a piece. Seriously, how DO you make any money off that shit? I don’t care, really, and neither do my kids. They put that transfatty goodness away like the wee bosses they are.

I wave my card at the guy a little too excitedly as he furrows his brow and thinks to himself, “Oh no, not one of those again.” Electronics, blenders, and coffee mugs, oh my! So much greets me right from the start, and you clever bastard — you always know to put the sale items up front, when I don’t have the pit of guilt in my stomach as I realize the contents of my cart add up to at least five hundred bones. Brilliant, I tell you. Fucking brilliant. And super cute rain boots on one of the few days it rains in SoCal? You evil genius. Do I really need them, though? Need is such a confusing word, and one I try not to think about too much. I rub elbows with my fellow hoarders as I go up and down every aisle. You don’t miss an aisle — that’s like Costco 101. You just never know what kind of interesting tidbit they’ve added since the last time you were there, so you don’t take that risk.

Can we just talk about the samples for a second? I know that samples at most grocery stores hold a wide variety of e-coli strains sprinkled with a wee bit of feces, but not you, Costco. Your shiny peeps wear gloves and hair nets and — let’s face it — most of those samples are so fucking delicious, they’re gone within like a nanosecond, thus preventing any germs to form. You’ve seen those people, right? Waiting, waiting, about to pounce on that sample of chili atop a tortilla chip like a lion eyeing a teeny bunny on one of those NatGeo shows — vying for the highly coveted first sample spot. Get ’em while they’re hot, even if you have to knock out the little grandma next to you. It’s like Lord of the Flies, and only the strongest in Costco survive. Sorry, Granny.

By the time I get to the meat section, my kids are usually buried under all the goods, and I haven’t even gotten to the gigantic paper towels yet. Where will I put those? As Barney from How I Met Your Mother would say, “Challenge accepted.” And I always find a spot for those paper towels, dammit! Mama loves paper towels, but don’t tell Al Gore, kay? I’ll reduce my carbon footprint later.

As I make way back to the front, I always have to swing by the dessert section. Oh, Costco, you naughty, naughty devil. I’m tempted to buy a birthday cake just for myself and dive into it like I’m on a deep-sea scuba expedition. But I know I can’t or I won’t fit in those leggings I bought at the front of the store. Curses! Maybe just the carrot cake cupcakes that are smothered in a Costco-sized amount of cream cheese. Those aren’t that bad, right? I mean, it’s carrot cake.

I cruise by the giant, 53″ teddy bear which I always almost buy every time. Every time! I haven’t yet, but I only have so much willpower. I WILL make that thing my bitch one of these days. Now you’ve even begun to super size everything — Hello Kitty, Sponge Bob, and Minnie Mouse. Who DOESN’T need a giant, slightly scary Minnie Mouse? I need to buy that one for someone, as everyone needs a gigantic stuffed animal that will take up half their room. It’s just practical.

Costco teddy bear

You are under my spell. You WILL take me home.

Okay, it’s time to check out, and my kids are now running around and giggling like the little shits they can sometimes be. Usually, someone gives me a dirty look, and occasionally I get a passive aggressive comment like, “I sure hope no one gets hurt crawling under all these heavy carts.” Thank you, fellow hoarders! Thank you for that backhanded bit of advice! Regret and a bit of separation anxiety is forming as I pay the bill, knowing that I can never, ever show my husband that receipt. It’s just between us, Costco. It’s our little secret. Well, it’s a BIG secret, as nothing at Costco is little. And that’s why I love you.

Always and Forever,

Marnie (The LoveBut Mom)

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Comments

  1. Ok – I just found you through Julie – from Blogger Boutique – she is redesigning my site. Um – can we be blogging besties? I LOVE your blog! You are hysterical! Can’t wait to read more by you.

    Kiran

  2. Val says:

    I thought of you as I walked into Costco yesterday and almost bought the desk fan that shoots out HEAT… why the F would I need this? It just looked so inviting though in the entrance display….

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