Rite Aid

A lot of people that I know that are parents (i.e. my parents) talk about having dreams for their children (i.e. me).  These dreams usually all boil down to a single factor - the undying urge to give their child a “better life than the one I had growing up”.

Well. 

Ain’t that just sweeter than a candy coated blowjob.

How painful would a Lemonhead beej be, though.

Personally, if I ever decide to go through the vagina-disfiguring pain of literally CREATING another person (they have to SEW you back up, you know.  AND there is a good possibility that in all of that pushing, you will shit on your baby.  With everyone in the room watching and possibly videotaping.  Have you ever asked your mother if she pooped on you when you were born?  Because I have, and she didn’t, which is how I know I’m perfect.  Just stating facts here.) Anyway, if I ever decide to permanently destroy my vadge by birthing a human bowling ball, I really don’t think I’m going to have such lofty hopes as my parents had for me (because, let’s face it, my life rules).  Instead, I’ll probably have a lot of mostly generic ones, like “do well in school” and “don’t shit on the carpet”.  The leader of the aspiration pack, however, is most definitely going to be that my kids never have to experience the veritable hell-hole that is Rite Aid.

I don’t know if you know about the Hierarchy of Drugstores in the immediate New Jersey area, so let me spit some knowledge at you real quick.  Excluding the outliers of Duane-Reade and some ass-hattery of a pharmacy called “Happy Harry’s”, there are really only three major players in the Hierarchy of Drugstores: CVS, Walgreens, and Rite Aid. 

It's so majestic!

CVS:  At the top of the Hierarchy of Drugstores is CVS.  Now, with any drugstore you go to, you’re going to encounter the same universal issues – employees who are miserable, a shitty soundtrack blasting over the speakers, and at least one jug of expired milk in the fridge aisle.  These problems aside, however, it’s really a no-brainer to see how CVS is the elite of all drugstores: the air smells controlled, but clean; the aisles are labeled in an easily navigable manner; and everything is usually organized on the shelves in a visually pleasing display.  CVS even has that cool machine where you scan your little card and five different coupons print out for like, $3.00 off Enemas, and while you know you’re never going to use the coupons (maybe), it’s still fun that they’re there.  Basically, if drugstores were high school athletes, CVS would probably be that one really quiet kid on Varsity that everyone forgets about until they see him wasted at after-prom making out with Becky Sanchez.

This is supposed to be representative of the fact that every time I go into Walgreens, I feel like I'm on a bad acid trip.

Walgreens: One notch below CVS, warming the bench on the JV team, we find Walgreens.  Walgreens is generally mediocre, and I think it has to do with their choice of building rental – there always seems to be either too much shit in too little space, or too much space to the point where I become dizzy with the thought that the universe will never stop expanding and that my life is ending one second at a time and yet here I am picking out a birthday card that will wind up in the garbage anyway so really I might as well just give my dad the four dollars I’m spending on it and we can hang out together while he lights it on fire because what is money and why does society have laws if WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE.  It’s this type of forced existential crisis that drops Walgreens in at the number two spot.  Also, whenever I walk into a Walgreens, I am immediately hit by a cold waft of what smells like both vomit and bleach.  But hey, at least they tried to clean, right?

My fellow True Americans, protesting Dante's Inferno.

Rite Aid: At the very bottom of the Hierarchy of Drugstores lies Rite Aid, aka the fat gothic girl who tried out for cheerleading as a joke (but secretly wanted to be on the team so, SO badly) and not only didn’t make it, but was offered the position of Mascot because everyone felt bad and wanted to make sure she wouldn’t kill herself in the face of this harsh rejection.  Speaking of killing yourself, that’s what I want to do every time I go into a Rite Aid (what a shitty fucking segue that was), and I think that the place would be more aptly named if it was called Satan’s Asshole instead.  I mean, like any normal girl, I judge the classiness of my drugstores based on the amount of judgment I can sense coming from the Pharmacy staff when I ask for Plan B.  At CVS, people are APPALLED at a Plan B request; at Walgreens, the staff raises a questionable eyebrow and offers a dismayed look; AT RITE AID, you don’t even have to ASK for permission to buy Plan B – it’s just sitting on a shelf next to all of the condoms and pregnancy tests, and when you bring it up to the counter to pay, the cashier tells you all about her last three abortions.  If you’re looking to buy any other product from Rite Aid, I suggest you bring a compass, surgical mask, and latex gloves, because I can guarantee you that every product in that ungodly excuse for a drugstore will not only have been thrown onto the shelf with no apparent logical order, but will also be coated in some kind of sticky film that is more than likely cockroach semen.

I had to take a break from writing this just now so I could meditate for a few minutes on the positive aspects of life.  You see, that’s what Rite Aid does to people – it sucks out all hope for a better world, and replaces it with images of toothless employees drooling at you while you try to purchase the latest Cosmopolitan and a liter of Evian.  I’m not sure if I’m just inclined to hate the place because of its blatant disregard of spelling rules (alternative titles for this post include “Rite Aid: Am I Rite or Am I Right?”; “What’s Right About Rite Aid?”; and “Why Rite Aid is a Fucking Piece of Shit.”). I’m sure there are some people out there that might disagree with me on the (valid) points I’ve raised here.  It is to those people that I’d just like to say, Fuck You.  Why?  Because the existence of Rite Aid is not only cheapening the entire human experience with its awfulness, but also because it is slowly ruining my life.

(Editor’s Note: This is a fictionalized, though educated, estimate of the global Rite Aid experience.  No studies have been done to support or deny these claims, probably because no one in their right mind would want to spend their time surveying our planet's giant shit stain, Rite Aid).