It wasn't the first time I've taken Sunbum out clubbing, either.
Yeah, I know she's only 14 but we've been going to the club since she was a baby.
It's like an Infidel family tradition now.
There's always an abundance of fresh meat at this club and it's yours for the taking!
Sure there's also a bunch of real turkeys and the occasional ham but at least they separated out the fruits into their own section.
I've picked up and taken home many a cheeseball from the club. They seem harmless enough but let me tell you, as you step on the scale after your brief encounter, you realize that they definitely DO NOT respect you in the morning!
They never ask any questions at the door. Nope, with one flash of my I.D. the bouncers allow us both to sashay right in to Sam's Club.
We don't usually drink while at the club but I was feeling spendy on Saturday. I ponied up the money for a large mixed drink on the rocks.
(Country Time Lemonade infused with a dash of Fanta Orange pretty much rules the soda world)
We don't go to Sam's to see or be seen but we've definitely established a mini fan base.
Whenever we walk by the food demonstrators they greet us with a hearty and sincere HELLO.......and then they make a ritualistic food offering to us as though we're some sort of Sam's Club goddesses. Maybe we are.
It's a symbiotic relationship at its finest.
Admittedly, we only go clubbin' to check out the ladies.
I like all kinds of ladies. Fat ones, skinny ones, ones serving Cream of Lox.....Tough ones, sissy ones, even ones with Chicken Fried Crocs!
Sadly, our recent visit was bereft of any decent ladies-in-hairnets action.
I furtively searched through the harried throng of focused club-goers hoping to find a glimmer of hope or some kind of sparkle that one only sees when the fluorescent lighting hits the chrome-plated lid of the electric skillet just the right way.
Alas, there was no sample lady lovin' going on anywhere in the entire club.
This woeful development led me to sing a mournful version of Beyonce's Single Ladies.
"WHERE'S MY SAMPLE LADIES....ALL THE SAMPLE LADIES? WHERE'S MY SAMPLE LADIES.....ALL THE SAMPLE LADIES?"
Sunbum took the cue and we made it a duet event to remember.
The final tally didn't look so good for us club-going Infidels.
Nobody asked us to dance. We had to buy our own drinks and there was nary a scrap of dried-out pot pie crust on a sample platter to be found anywhere.
I did score some giant breasts. On sale.
A small consolation for our otherwise fruitless night out at the club.
Maybe there's a Sample Lady Strike that nobody told me about.
They're probably all holed up somewhere covert feasting on frozen mini pizzas and Fiber One bars together.
I bet they're throwing back their heads and laughing (with their mouths full) at the pain and suffering they're causing Sam's Club patrons.
I hope I get an invite soon to their private sample-eating party club.
I invented the BEST secrety handshake ever. My gang sign is three fingers. I call it "The Sign Of The Fork."
I'll be more than happy to share it with this rogue bunch of Sample Ladies if they'll only let me in.