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Our Happy Place
My bff and I have A Thing for Walgreens. (Yes, I know I am Over Forty, but I have a bff. She’s known me since I was fifteen, awkward, and weirder than I am now. She sat with me at lunch during The Perm Stage, in front of God and everybody. She never commented on the fact that in high-school, one could have driven a Mack truck through the gap in my two front teeth. She thinks I’m funny, and since she’s Flat-Out Hilarious, I consider her an expert in this area. She one of those Clever Readers. She has been a blessed constant in my life, a joy, a strength, and a listening ear. Chelly is my own personal National Treasure.)
Anyway, back to Walgreens: it’s our favorite store on the planet. Walgreens is completely awesome in every possible way:
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Inside Walgreens, it’s all rainbows…
One actually can “just run into” Walgreens.
Walgreens is never packed full of people with grocery carts the size of Buicks full of screaming children and a month’s worth of groceries. This fact is so awesome, I almost want to re-type it.
No matter where on earth one finds themselves, one can “just run into” (!) a Walgreens and feel right at home: Walgreens is the same no matter where one finds themself.
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Ooh, the anticipation…
Walgreens is stocked with all of the necessities growing girls need, in perfect purse-sized proportions: ice cream, paperbacks, several aisles (suh-woooon) of make-up, greeting cards, office supplies, snacks, interesting lotions, shampoos, and moisterizers, cheap sunglasses, tons of weird stuff labeled “As Seen on TV”, candy, and last, but not least, (cue the choir: “aaaaah!”) magazines.
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Dang, that’s purty.
My bff and I do not go to Walgreens when we Need Things. That’s a Chore, and involves WalMart, a place invented so that we might experience the Realities of Hell, and be duly inspired to stay on The Straight and Narrow. We do, however, occasionally go to Walgreens when we need to escape the realities of life, because Walgreens, my friends, is A Little Slice of Heaven. We walk out with a couple of new mascaras, Sprees, Funyons, Dr Pepper, several new paperbacks, two or three fat magazines, huge smiles, and no money.
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That word “Outlast” on the label is a warning, girls! A Warning!
Chelly, however, recently made the mistake of going to Walgreens completely unsupervised (read “Without Moi”). She walked out, feeling all Responsible and What-Not (because she had only purchased three items, and so she still had enough cash to take advantage of Happy Hour at Sonic), with what she thought was a Nice and Perfectly Safe lip gloss. Turns out, it was a Cosmetological Horror called a Lip Stain.
Her lips haven’t spoken to her in a week. Hopefully, she’s learned her lesson.
