in the lair of the swine-people.

I had to venture out of the house today to get a birthday present for my niece.

Since I didn't want to drive clear across town to the Toys-R-Us, I had to bite the bullet and head over to the Lair of the Swine-People, which is always a dangerous undertaking on a Sunday afternoon.

Now, those creatures are not only fat, slow, and stupid, but also terribly unaware of their surroundings, grazing the aisles at speeds that can be measured in geological epochs. They usually don't bother anything that's not a.) junk food, b.) rhinestone-studded, or c.) emblazoned with NASCAR or college football symbology, but I did feel safer knowing that my trusty sixgun is always loaded with 158-grainers, which have the necessary sectional density to penetrate to the vitals in the event of being caught between a charging sow and the pork rind display.

I did manage to procure three packs of Barbie "Fashion Fever" outfit ensembles. On the way out, I took the route least likely to contain any concentrations of Swine-People: from the exercise equipment over to the books, and then through the vegetables & fruit aisle of the grocery section.