Target and I have never agreed during the holidays, but I figured I’d be safe for at least another month.
I was wrong.
Ken took Blake down to the park this morning, so I decided to head on over to my local Target to pick up some odds and ends.
Here’s the thing: I went at 10am on a Monday. So why, I ask, was Target full of complete imbeciles?
First, there was the lady standing in the middle of the cleaning aisle like she owns the place. Ask her to excuse you and you’ll earn yourself an eyeroll and sour face. Ma’am, I’m sorry your ass is so wide I can’t get around it.
Next? The lady who completely emptied her shopping cart on to the middle of the floor to take inventory of her items. It’s okay, crazy woman! You put your crap all over the floor of the store and just look at it. Take your time! I’ve got alllll day.
Then there was Mr. Crazy McDouchepickle.
You see, I was on my way to the check stand when something caught my eye: A coffee mug with a rooster on it. Let’s face it; I’m a sucker for anything that makes the word “cock” pop into my head.
I’m mature like that.
When I saw the cock mug, I had to stop and take a closer looksy. Mr. I-Love-Holey-Boxers has a birthday coming up, and what better way to say, “I really appreciate you stinking up my office. Happy birthday!” than with a cock
This is when Mr. Crazy McDouchepickle decided to tap me on the shoulder and tell me that I’d better watch my purse before he puts money in it.
… the fack?!
Let’s get something straight: I love old people. I just don’t love old people who tap me on the shoulder and say something totally strange, thus breaking my cock mug concentration.
I was totally into that mug, y’all.
At the time, the only thing I could do was smile and scurry off to avoid him touching me again.
Looking back, I should have asked, “Hey, aren’t you the one who picked me up last night?” but I digress.
To my horror, the lines were about five people deep. When you’re Target, nothing makes more sense than having 87 check stands with only two open at any given time. I pushed my way through to the back of (what I thought was) the shortest line, which inevitably ended up being the slowest.
After standing in line for a painfully long amount of time (which was made even longer by the checker dropping my gallon of milk all over the floor), I finally made it out of the store.
Yes, I may be talking smack, but even with Christmas approaching, Target will always be better than Kohl’s.
Tell me: What store do YOU hate going in to?