Since I’ve been back in college, I have cut my 3-4 times a week trips to Target down to about 1-2. I was going there so much, the workers knew me by name and asked where I’ve been if I went more than two days without going. Yes, Target calls to me. If I have an hour or so to kill, it knows. Target knows what’s up.
Target: Oh, hey! You over there. Didn’t you run out of butter yesterday? Sure, the grocery store is closer but you neeeeed meeee.
Me: Um, look Target. I know you mean well but I can wait until the weekend to get more butter.
Target: Of course. No pressure, girl! I’m just sayin’. And you know what? It’s been kind of chilly. You could come on over and get some fuzzy socks or some cozy slippers.
Me: Target, I know what you’re doing. I’m not falling for it. I don’t need more nice, fuzzy socks. So fuzzy. I… NO! I’m not listening to you.
Target: You know how you bought that lip liner and it’s too dark? Well, Target has what you need. C’mon, I won’t tell your husband. Those fuzzy socks are waiting and if you get that butter, you can start baking.
Me: Well… that would be much more convenient to get everything in one place. But, no. I can’t!
Target. I know how you love to spend time looking through the 30% off rack in the girls section. You’ve found some awesome things for the hummingbird.
Me: I MUST FIGHT THIS! WHERE ARE YOU, WILLPOWER?
Target: Like I said, no pressure. But… the Cadbury mini eggs are now out on the shelves and you can…
Me: Fuck it! I’m going to Target!
2 hours later…
Me: What the hell just happened?