Anyone with a Costco card knows there are only 2 reasons that thing is remains in your wallet year after year, and why the only response to that “Would you like to renew your membership” question at the register every year is an uncomfortably loud “Oh HELL Yeah”.
To ensure that if you must reach in the pantry for a gravy packet, you will have to navigate past the 48 Jars of pimento-stuffed olives and the industrial sized coffee tureen for, you know, whenever.
And, number two.
The holy sh*ttin’ Birthday Cakes.
Nobody makes a birthday cake like Costco. Costco cakes border on insanity. Or insanity ensues. I can’t think straight again. Kind of like when I stood in the line of 12 members at the register, each of which appeared to be buying enough artichoke hearts and Tampax for, well, I don’t know who. And not one of them risks turning around to make eye contact with the guy with only one item.
And that guy’s me. With a cake for my son, and my daughter, and me. 3 people. That’s why you buy a sheet cake that feeds 36. For $18.
And that’s why after the candles are blown out, and the kids are being treated for their hyperglycemia, the remains of the cake are lovingly placed in plastic shoe boxes in the fridge. For later. And later. And then later.