By Kacie Leach
The best kind of “Target trips” are the ones where you browse aimlessly in the store with your best friend while pushing her in a bright red cart, as you skateboard up and down the Lego aisle again and again because you have an obsession with the $108.56 Star Wars Lego set.
Being a hooligan and laughing a little till the point where you tinkle a smidge is way better than a fast in-and-out trip with mom to pick up some ointment for your little brother’s rash he got from playing with the kid next door. (FYI: stay away from Jimmy, the one who lives on the corner, not the one with the ponytail and rockin abs).
Target is where hopes and dreams are made. Target is where you find attractive workers to talk about the weather, having purple hair, or what type of milk to buy for your cat (yes, I have had these exact conversations with the employees before). Target is where I can find cake mix on the clearance shelf. Yet never bake the cake. it was just on sale, and like Nana says, “If it’s on sale, you buy it.”
Target is where grandma’s birthday present and that new red lace, yet not completely scandalous bra that catches the eye is conveniently located. Yes,it is a store that has it all: grandma’s prunes and your lingerie. Target is the place where you go to solve all your problems. Or it can sometimes be the place to create new problems like getting the call from the bank about your insufficient funds.
Target is full of absolutely ridiculous products such as fortune-telling pens, something so absurd and pointless. But if you were to check my bank account transactions from last Tuesday… I bought twelve. Eleven for me, and one for grandma’s birthday gift. Shortly after being in the store it is easy to find yourself spending the gold dollar coins saved in the piggy pink since you were six on a plum colored soccer mom hat.
If you’re ever feeling down or blue, the best and cheapest form of therapy is to visit your local Target.