Dear Costco,
Thanks for the notice that my membership will expire in April.
Although I love my $300 bendable magnesium no-line trifocal eyeglasses, the 8 pounds of Jarlsberg, the half gallon of hummus, the 500 count 2-pack of antacids and the 1,000 Splenda packets I bought from you in the last year, the saving I got did not exceed the $50 membership fee.
Besides, I am busy discrediting George Bush by not purchasing anything but basic necessities until his time runs out.
Oh, I'll visit you again before the card expires in April, but it'll be like break-up sex.
I'll go through the motions, chucking into my cart a few kilos of coffee, a couple of cases of Smart-water and maybe a huge box or two of clumpable kitty litter, but there will be no navigation devices, PC's, mattresses or flat screen TVs in my cart.
But please don't be jealous.
I'm not leaving you for another warehouse shopping experience.
It's not you, it's me.
