Make Mine Mike

Why do I hate Target?

Is it because it’s a big faceless Mart-strosity that ruins all the other small businesses? I heard that movie I [Heart] Huckabees had something to do with quirky characters protesting a similar franchise… but I didn’t see that flick, ‘cause I H8’d the cutesy title.

Around the same time the film opened, so did a new Target in West Hollywood, and everyone nearby was excited. The rash had spread to their neighborhood and they couldn’t wait to scratch.

Ahh, maybe I’m just being contrary. People love Target.

There were tons of shoppers at the one in Van Nuys last Saturday. I went ‘cause I needed a few things -- painted my apartment recently, and used up some sheets as drop-cloths, ruined my bath mat, and my alarm clock fell into a bucket of dark teal blue latex with an aqua matte.

Ooh, I could also use a new Yankees hat. And another coffeemaker. I only have four; this way I can go all week without washing out a single one.

No! I’m no impulse buyer. I won’t give into senseless consumerism.

I’m not the only one struggling with these decisions. A pretty young woman was quarrelling about kitchen appliances with her mother. The mom was gorgeous, too. Hot Mama was sayin’ that they didn’t need that blender. And Tight-Low-Rise-Jeans-Wearin’ Daughter was insisting it wasn’t that expensive.

I didn’t know exactly what they were saying -- and not because I was entertaining MILF and DILF fantasies -- they were speaking another language. Hmm, Portuguese? No, it was more guttural, lots of sh and cch sounds. Arabic, maybe. Such beautiful brunette babes, I bet they were Armenian.

I finally just asked, "Excuse me. What language are you speaking?" They looked at me strangely and said Hebrew. "Oh, that’s what I thought," I said. "Shabat shalom."

They smiled and laughed and wished me a happy Saturday/good Sabbath too. Now I was thinking out being the falafel in this family feast, within two slices of pretty pita. Ask ‘em, who’s your babaganoush?

Then I heard: "Mom, you don’t need those!"

"Don’t tell me what I can have! Mother, tell your granddaughter to stop bossing me around!"

It was in English. Angry English. My sister, mom and grandma. Three generations of crazy women snapping me back to reality. I love ‘em, but it ain’t easy listening to the argument du jour. Today it was whether to buy or not to buy, that is the question. It occurred to me that the only time I’ve been to this store -- spending an outrageous fortune -- is on our weekend get-togethers.

Ah yes. Now I know why I hate Target.