I think Target pumps some kind of secret drug into their stores. The minute I walk into a Target, I enter some sort of fugue state, drifting through the aisles with mouth agape and glazed eyes, picking up knick-knacks and mindlessly throwing them into a cart. Picture frame? Oh, I need that. Another candle? Can’t have enough of those. Cat toys? Phoebe deserves it. Three dollar plunger? It must have super poo-suction. It all goes in the cart. Because I cannot go into Target and get just a basket, oh no, not even if I just go in for merely a birthday card. It’s as if my hands have magnetic powers, but only in Target, and the cart just flies right to them. Like Magneto. I always thought it would be funny if that was spelled “Magneato,” like, “Hey, he has magnetic powers! Neato! No, MAGneato.” Heh. Nerd alert.
I don’t know what it is about Target, but I can lose hours in that store. I went in yesterday to look for a movie. I walked directly to the DVD section (without grabbing a cart OR a basket, hurrah!) and, even though they didn’t have the movie I was looking for I was there for an HOUR. I didn’t buy anything but I have no idea where that time went. I don’t have any memories of looking at anything in particular. Where did that hour go? Did a Target employee sneak up behind me and inject me with something, then drag me to a back room where my eyes were taped open and I was forced to watch Target commercials over and over? Is this the seedy underbelly of Target? The Target Mafia? Are all of those bulls eyes are some kind of subliminal mind control?
I don’t know. But I think I’m having withdrawal symptoms.
No comments:
Post a Comment