It's casual Friday at work. I'm wearing my new jeans, which my mom bought me at Costco for $16. They're Levi's, stretchy, bootcut (because skinny jeans can only look good on Kate Moss and heroine addicts), supercomf. I love them. I love Costco.
I wish we'd had Costco when I was a kid. My dad is a massive bargain shopper. Now they go to Costco and buy 500 roles of toilet paper at a go. For the four years of my childhood that we lived in the US, when I was ages 10-14 and easily mortified, my dad would make us go on toilet paper runs.
The drugstore insert in the Sunday paper would advertise toilet paper on sale. Limit 4 per customer. So my dad would round us up, my mom, my brother and me, and take us all to the drugstore. He'd pile 16 four-packs of toilet paper into carts, and we'd all have to go up to the front together to check out.
There are not many things more embarrassing to a 13 year old than being seen purchasing 64 rolls of toilet paper. I can still hear him say, "Kids, get in the car! Toilet paper run!"