You and I have always had a mutually exclusive relationship, but lately my ardor is beginning to fade. You aren’t the store I fell in love with, and lately I’ve found myself driving past Fred Meyer and Wal-Mart with thoughts of infidelity flitting through my mind. I am concerned and disheartened by the following changes I’ve noted as of late. . .
1) You now have these new pill bottles now where the top is the bottom and the bottom is the top and instead of being round like every other prescription bottle they're square so I keep thinking they're the vitamins and the tops are all individually color-coded for each family member and OMGWTFABCDEFG!?!? By the time I figure out which prescription is mine and how to open the goddamned thing I'll be dead from whatever it was that required medication in the first place.
2) Cadbury cream eggs in JANUARY! OK, it's bad enough you have to bust out these jizz-filled chocolate shells every Easter, but January? Really, Target? As a nation we have brought down Saddamn Hussein and Osama Bin Laden, abolished slavery, and eradicated socialism; can't we do something about these confectionaries? No one I know actually likes cream eggs, but every spring we buy them by the dozens out of some vernal obligation to the candy gods. You are nothing better than a Cadbury pimp, Target. . .and yet again, I am your bitch.
3) Your new environmentally-friendly-biodegradable shopping bags suck worse than an Amish whore. Just once I would like to make it from the cash register to my car without my bag tearing open like the bomb bay doors on the Enola Gay; spewing out Archer Farms trail mix like a bulimic on Thanksgiving.
4) Are you serious about those tip jars on the popcorn/hot dog counter? Tell you what, if you are adding extra starch to my dry cleaning, whipping me up a decadent vanilla soy latte, or giving me a lap dance, then yes...I shall tip. But if all you are doing is dumping some stale popcorn into a bag and taking 45 minutes to do it because you are "totally freaking out over last night's 'One Tree Hill'" with your co-worker then you can kiss 10% of my ass.
5) Your 'Express" lane needs strict rules of enforcement. The next time I get stuck in that line behind some octogenarian trying to pay for 75 cans of cat food with double coupons, Confederate bills, and a personal check from the First National Bank of Bangladesh I will truly lose my shit.
6) Why must you keep changing your aisles around? I go to Target for the same reason I worship at the shrine of Starbucks: consistency. However, lately I wander through your doors whistling blithely like Andy Griffith and wind up leaving more confused and pissed off than Elin Woods. Is it absolutely necessary that I embark on a Hieronymus-Bosch-like odyssey in order to procure a tank top and some Missoni pumps? And when I finally do find the items I desire, I invariably wind up at the one check out lane manned by a troglodyte with the interpersonal skills of Rainman. I get it. . .it must be frustrating as hell to find the perfect red polo shirt to show off your tribal neck tattoo, but don’t take your angst out on me, Morrissey.
I still have much love for you Target ((*fist bump*)). I know that in time, we can work this out.
PS: You might want to expand your hiring pool as well. Judging by the Crips and Norteno gangstas I’ve seen manning the fitting rooms, lately you've become a little less Tar-zhey, and a little more Tar-ghetto. I’m just sayin’…