Goods

Our Target is being renovated into a SUPER Target, and though I appreciate the new whisper-soft carts, I do not appreciate the fact that I honestly can’t find anything, as it’s all smooshed up into a smaller store during the expansion. I also don’t appreciate that they rolled out the new carts, which are twice the size of the old carts, while the aisles are half the size of the old aisles, and the entire time I was there today, I kept saying, “SAM! Watch your head! HEAD!” because she was lounging with head all dangly, and my God, Target is so effing HARROWING lately.

Worse, because of all this, I was looking for underwear for me, and here’s where I admit I was basically looking for the worst underwear in the world, because I just wanted those stupid plastic packages of, like, Jockey for Her or Hanes or something, you know? I’m sure you all had this vision of me lying about in a smoking jacket and silk tangas from Victoria’s Secret in between floor steamings, but I’m sorry to say, it’s … well, at least it’s not those giant cotton BRIEFS, is all I’m saying. So anyway, there I am, in Target, and you guys, I CANNOT FIND ANYTHING. The women’s section is all squinched into this wee corner of the store next to some makeshift dressing rooms, and I can’t find the damn underwear to save my life, but I did find a collection of underwear for little girls, and even as I write that, it seems PERVY.

The point is, there aren’t any packages of underwear for grown-ups in a place that is easily located, but that’s no excuse for me stopping a Target employee and stammering, “Where is the underwear? You know, for moms?”

FOR MOMS. BECAUSE MOMS WEAR SPECIAL UNDERWEAR. The whole exchange, honestly, is just grossing me out, because … well, I don’t even KNOW WHY, except that I’m imagining why moms would need special underwear and then my mind went to birth or kangaroo pouches and YOU GUYS, I WANT TO THROW UP.

To the employee’s credit, she just pointed me to grown-up lady underwear and I picked up my Fruit of the Loom in body tones (but not giant over-the-belly briefs, and again, I feel like this is important information), if by body tones they mean an odd shade of rose and some sort of pasty beige that is the color of no one’s skin, pretty much in the history of mankind. Well, except for maybe a special breed of moms.

At any rate, if you need me, I’ll be over here dying a slow death by daylight saving time, because if THAT isn’t the worst invention known to man — NOT INVENTED BY A MOM, UNDERWEAR OR NO — I don’t know what is. We’re sleeping late! Going to bed late! (And by ‘we’ I mean Sam and me.) Waking up at 9:30! And … not napping. I basically want to take cheese graters to my skin and bathe in vinegar. SRSLY.

I’ll leave you with this shot of Sam from last week that Megan took, natch. I love her so, and by her, I mean Megan, although Sam is pretty nifty too. Sam as deep thinker, even if she’s really wondering where Elmo is and how she can make him HERS, ALL HERS.

(Click to embiggen, should you desire.)

Happy weekend!

*Mates of State

25 comments March 17th, 2011