It's poor form to begin a blog post about one subject with a tangent about another, but my form has never been good. I love the memes using women's names, usually featuring pets. Don't you? They crack me the fuck up. If you ever see one and it's funny, tag me. Do not tag me in not funny shit.
Anyway.
As I mentioned yesterday, I went to Target on Sunday at 2:30 pm. I was cruising along through most of the underpopulated portions of the store, humming to myself. I saw Christmas lights straight ahead so I made my way into that aisle.
Annnd stop.
Carts on both sides gumming up the works while their women drivers were very busy locking hungry eyes with items on shelves like they were Johnny Castle in his cabana after pulling off the dance at the Sheldrake Hotel with Baby. No problem ladies, carry on in your sensual eye dance with prospective mantel decor. I will go around.
I did a cart K-turn which I hate even more than an automobile K-turn and headed down the next aisle over. I parked a discreet distance away, hoping I'd be in and out of the light section in a flash and thinking it would be easier without my cart.
Surprise! There are now 203948203482384 varieties of white lights. I took a minute to look over my options, and in that minute, four different women hit me with their carts. I'm bad at math, but that's like someone hitting me every 20 seconds. No,15. Whatever, the point is what is it about the holidays that makes people lose all control in stores? It's like zombies focused on one thing. Everything and everyone else is just in the way.
Sharons, we all need the lights and we're all going to get the goddamn lights and we don't need to run each other over in the process. Chill. And buy yourself a box of brownie mix on the way out because damnit you deserve it.
