Help, HELP! I’m Trapped at Target!

I am passionate about… shopping at Target.

A bad day shopping at Target is better than the best day NOT shopping at Target. Am I right?

In case you haven’t noticed, Target features quite predominantly in many of my posts. There was the dream where I lost my daughter when she ran into a Target.
Target figured predominantly in the post about my daughter’s petrified poop.
And who can’t write a post about misbehaving kids without sticking a Target reference in there…

Maybe this on our Target's door would make me NOT go in?  If only.

Maybe this on our Target’s door would make me NOT go in? If only.

I tell ya, it’s that famous hypnotic eye.  It does stuff to you.  Hypnotic eye?  If you read Parenting, Illustrated With Crappy Pictures, Amber Dusick penned (er, drew) it perfectly.  She surmises that bullseye is actually a big eye that hypnotizes you into buying all kinds of crap you really don’t need.  She is a genius-she is so right.  It’s either some sort of hypnotic eye or something they pipe into the store, like a nerve gas…

So my story today begins with a shopping trip.  This particular day I had come to town to get ingredients for a pudding cake.  If you’ve never had pudding cake, it may sound kind of weird.  Basically it’s a yellow cake with holes poked in it and then chocolate pudding poured over it.  Me not being a pudding person or a cake person, I wasn’t all that excited about it, though I was intrigued since I had never seen such a thing.  But The Princess was totally enthralled by the idea of making such a magical treat and off I went to get the ingredients.

As I stood in Fareway amongst the cake mixes, that’s when Target started calling to me.  I quickly moved to the pop aisle to check some prices.  I was trying to do the math on my pop because I’m addicted to Diet Sunkist Lemonade and must get it as cheap as possible.  I concluded that I could save a whole 50 cents if I drove over to Target-don’t mock me, it was the damn store calling me from clear across town.

targetI arrived at Target and was instantly lured in by it all.  I am incapable of just walking into Target, getting something, and getting out.  I have to see it all, lest I miss a great deal on something I can’t live without. It doesn’t help that the soda aisle is clear almost in the back of the store.  You have to go past everything just to get there.  There is something in that store that causes your mind to go blank.  You have to go perusing the end of every aisle trying to remember just what you went in there for.  15% off!  30% off!  And occasionally 50% and 70% off!  When Easter stuff was 90% off, I almost bought some of it just to say I got something for 90% off.

Apparently whatever it is that clouds your brain works a little too well.  What should have taken five minutes took 30 minutes.  I walked up to the front with my twelve pack of pop and paid the cashier, parked the cart and left to go out to the car.  This particular day I had brought my husband’s car.  His fancy schmancy Nissan doesn’t actually use keys.  It has buttons.  This is both good and bad.  Good because you never have to actually take the keys out of your pocket, and bad because you never have to actually take the keys out of your pocket.

I got in and realized that there were no keys in my pocket.  Which meant I had taken the keys OUT of my pocket at some point, even though I didn’t NEED the keys for anything because THE CAR STARTS WITH A BUTTON.  Step on the brake, push the button. As long as the keys are in the car it is supposed to start.

According to the car, there were no keys in it.  It did not start.  C-r-a-p.

Reality was starting to sink in.  I returned to the store and asked at the service desk. No keys.  I asked at the checkout.  They had not seen them either.  This meant that I had left my keys in the cart. I must be very weak, because I needed a cart for one item.

So I started looking through all of the carts.  I went around the outside and peeked into each cart.  Then I frantically starting pulling carts out.  No keys. Pretty soon this behavior attracted some attention-the guys in the red polos came over to help the crazy lady throwing around the carts.

After a few minutes of this with no avail I walked away and decided to call my husband.  He didn’t answer.  I texted him too.  No response.  Fabulous.

This was when I realized that I was TRAPPED IN TARGET.  This is like having PMS and being locked inside a Chocolaterie Stam.  It can only end very badly, with the Starbucks smells and the bargains, I could very well be in big trouble.

I had one thing working for me-sooner or later Evil Genius was going to realize that his wife had not returned with those ingredients.  Just to be sure, I messaged him on Facebook.  “Hey, check your phone!”  Then I tweeted…

keys target(For the record, Evil Genius doesn’t Twitter for religious reasons.  He thinks it’s stupid.)

The minutes dragged on.  The awesome employees at Target were busting their humps trying to help little old me.  One girl walked all through the store on the off chance that maybe I had laid my keys down to look at something.  Another girl called around to the other employees to keep their eyes open for them.  They finally gave me a choice-I could give them my number when the keys turned up, or they could try to make an announcement over the loudspeaker.  I chose to wait it out and give them my number since I was already dying of embarrassment (have YOU ever heard them use the intercom at Target?  Me neither).

Thankfully, by this time Evil Genius had finally answered my repeated phone calls, and was ready to drive the half hour to get me if need be.  We decided to wait twenty more minutes. Two minutes after I hung up with him one of the service desk girls came bringing them to me.  They were in a cart, taking another ride all around the store.  I snatched them and got the heck out of there.

lost keysI arrived home over an hour later than I had intended.  I had to share my experience on Facebook when I got home.  Man I was proud of myself! An extra hour in Target with nothing to do but wait and I survived without buying anything extra!

For the record, it was all worth the trip to town.  As you can see, the story had a happy ending.  She got to make her pudding cake…

Pudding cake diva

Pudding cake diva

This post was written as part of Finish The Sentence Friday.  Click the link and check out what other people are passionate about.  By the way I AM passionate about other things…

Weekly Wrap-Up: Weak Week

It did seem a bit like a weak week to me.  My husband was on death’s door for at least two days (and missed work for three) while I’ve been suffering a bit, um, mentally (damn PMS).  But I did get new glasses this week, which was very exciting to me.  The picture is a bit blurry, but let’s just pretend that it’s on purpose, shall we?

IMG_1670

Monday  The ADD Kitchen 4:  Baby Its Cold Outside But We Want to be Healthy Edition  Baking when it’s cold outside makes the house warm!  Some stuff that actually worked for me for once!

Tuesday  Insomnia:  It’s Nothing to Lose Sleep Over  I’m a zombie, RAWR!

Wednesday  I am “Loded”  It’s not like it sounds at all.  This is what happens when you are all out of “v”s.

Thursday  Theme Thursday:  The ADD 80s Child Looks at 80s Teen Movies  Jenn challenges me to figure out which member of The Breakfast Club I am.  All I can think about is Sixteen Candles.  Here is the scary result.

Friday  Fly on the Wall January 2013:  The Princess Edition  Find out what man cans and lady cans are.

Saturday  The Flake Award:  The Please Don’t Hate Me Because I Forgot About My Award Post  I’m a flake and how I’m trying to make up for it.

My favorite posts this week:

(Is it sad that I really don’t remember much from this past week?  I haven’t been drunk or anything, honest!)

Depression-S*&T That Everyone Should Know  Nicole Knepper-Finally, someone who explains depression in language that I can relate to, in poop terms.  Well you know, sometimes you just feel like poop…  This is a must read!

ALL the Fly on the Wall posts this week!

Best Search Terms This Week:

Mr T Cooking-I pity the fool!

She wants my zamboni-Is this something like “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy” or more like a penis reference?

What does batman eat for dinner-It really sounds like there should be a punchline.  Now I’m wondering, WHAT?

Abby’s Flying Fairy School lyrics-Look up high, in the sky, it’s a school, it can fly!  Um… I used to know all the lyrics… A quick search reveals that you can find the lyrics HERE.  So if you’re looking, now you know where!

Coming Up Next Week:

I have one very exciting thing to share:  I’ll be guest posting over at Menopausal Mother!  Yahoo!  But enough about me, go enjoy your weekend!

yay weekend

Thankfulness With A Touch Of PMS

This is Gilda, the famous toilet paper roll turkey. I put this on here because I’m thankful for my kids. And toilet paper.

I tried the whole thankful thing on Facebook for awhile.  After a few days I just stopped.  It’s not that I stopped being thankful.  Does the world really need to know that I am thankful for yogurt?  It just seemed silly.  But really I AM very thankful.  I just feel weird voicing it.

Thanksgiving is in two days, and lo and behold I’m stricken with PMS.  It will make for some AWESOME holiday eating, if nothing else.  Here I wanted to write this post, and I’ve been weepy and crotchety all day.  Then again, this could be fun.  Let’s see what comes out of my little head.

What Am I Thankful For?

My Kids-We had a moment today.  All of the money crap came to a head today, and I lost it.  Sitting in the living room in the middle of what could only be described as a laundry stonehenge, I sat bawling my eyes out.  My daughter came in, concerned, and asked what was wrong.  I told her I would be ok, I was just having a hard time not being able to help out with the money right now.  She smiled, kissed me on the head and said “I know what you can do.”  I didn’t say anything.  “You can just do Mommy things.”  And she walked away.  Wow, what a smart, sweet, awesome kid she is.

My son makes sure that he lets me know on a regular basis that despite the fact that we eat things like pasta here, that he is very lucky to have me as a parent.  We struggle a lot with his ADD and other issues, but he is a really neat kid.  And you should see him dance-it’s like nothing you’re ever quite experienced.  No coordination, no control, just crazy arms and legs going everywhere and a great big grin on his face.  I love it.

My Husband-He works and works and works and works.  Occasionally he even spends time with us, and often the gears are still going in his head while he’s with me.  That’s ok.  Someday I hope maybe I can work too.

My Parents-If it weren’t for my Mom and Dad and all the help they have given us with different things throughout the years, I’d probably be laying out on the railroad tracks somewhere in my underwear.

Our House-It’s old, like 112 years old.  It’s not pretty on the outside- it needs painted, a new roof, windows replaced.  The inside isn’t much better-appliances need fixed, we could use new furniture, new everything.  But it’s a roof over our heads, and I’m good with that.

Blog People-These are not like the Pod People.  I’m talking about the gals (and some guys too) who do this thing too.  We all get each other.  I don’t really have any friends around close, so it’s nice to have someone who is there when you need it and will help you out.  Thanks!

Bill Collectors-If it weren’t for these guys, I wouldn’t know my phone worked.  I’m hoping they are happy for people like me.  After all, we’re what keeps them in business.

Mountains of Laundry-I am thankful for all of those heaps of laundry because that means we actually HAVE clothes.  I just hate washing them.  And folding them.  And putting them away.

Those Little Things-You know, that thing that happens when things seem hopeless that keeps you going a little longer.  I had one this past week.  Just when I thought it was the bottom rung, I got a letter in the mail reminding me that we still had $100 left in our food stamps from the beginning of the year that we needed to use as soon as possible.  I called and got another card.  That could not have come at a better time.  We really needed that.  This isn’t the first time this has happened.  Two years ago, our basement flooded with sewage and the furnace was ruined.  I was working but making very little money at the time, and my husband was laid off.  Insurance does not cover sewer back up.  This was it, there was no extra money to buy anything.  But miracles do happen.  Since we had people weatherizing our house, they were able to include a brand new furnace as well as a sump pump as part of the weatherization.

Food-In particular, comfort food and wine.  You know what I’m talkin about.

And everything else-I probably forgot about 3,529 things that I should probably also mention.  It’s not that I don’t feel gratitude, it’s just that I can’t write a blog post that long.  And there’s too many holes in my brain to retain them that long.  😀

I can most of the time.

XPMS: Extreme Pretty Miserable Syndrome (No Beings Of Any Kind Were Harmed In The Writing of This Post)

No, it’s something far more terrifying.

DISCLAIMER!  WARNING:  Cease and desist reading if you are one of THOSE guys who just rolls his eyes or gets ill when your girlfriend/wife/bff/sister/lizard/etc starts talking about menstrual type stuff.  Just close this window and walk away.  Pretty please with beer on top?

Have you ever seen the commercial about PMDD?  (The purple acronym is a link to the commercial, just in case you don’t know what I mean or have forgotten it by now).  Imagine me in my serious announcer voice as I explain:  “PMDD stands for Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder.  PMDD is a severe form of Premenstrual Disorder (PMS).  Like PMS, PMDD follows a predictable, cyclic pattern.  Anxiety, anger, and depression may occur.  The main symptoms may be disabling.  And BLAH BLAH BLAH.

Because I have PMS, this is annoying me and I don’t want to read the rest of it.

DISCLAIMER:  If you have PMDD, and you are getting very angry reading this because you think I’m about to make fun of you (which I’m not), please close the window and walk away.  I don’t want anyone to hunt me down and kill me or put a hex on my blog.

I don’t think I have PMDD, I think I have EXTREME PMS!  It’s not like regular PMS, because I swear it lasts about two weeks.  And I never know when it’s going to strike, because I’m not, um, regular (in sooooooo many more ways than I’m implying here.)  I get so bloated that I think that something is seriously wrong. Clothes that fit two days before no longer fit.  I’m miserable.  This can last anywhere from three to fourteen days, depending on the month.

I feel fat. I feel like this. And I don’t even like eating frogs. I bet there’s Diet Sunkist Lemonade in that drinky thingie.

DISCLAIMER:  If you are a hutt, don’t hate me.  Please.

Not only do I feel like Jabba, I also want to eat everything in sight.  In other words I have slightly less willpower than I usually do.  Evil Genius knows he can get away with certain things without me trying to kill him, at least right away.  There have been multiple *Peanut Butter Bars incidents in our house, where he has made these delectable homemade treats that can best be described as an eight pound Reeses Peanut Butter cup.  They are filled with crack, or meth, or some kind of drug.  I can’t stop eating them.  I have been known to ok the making of these under the influence of XPMS.  Then after I have eaten most of it and come to my senses I force him to take what is left out of the house and feed them to his coworkers.  Tonight I made homemade apple crisp, because I wanted it.  I never do that (bake something for me).  And I ate it.  WITH vanilla ice cream.  The justification of this was a) I made it with whole wheat flour and b) it was light vanilla ice cream.  This was after I devoured tater tot casserole, something I also almost never make.  That wasn’t nearly as good, since the tater tot portion was freezer burnt.  More justification for the Apple Crisp, right?

*I’ll post the recipe for the crack, I mean, Peanut Butter Bars, in an upcoming edition here soon.  I promise.  Just in case you have PMS and want to hate yourself too.

On top of having the moves like Jabba and eating my house, I also get a bit moody.  It’s most just deep dark depression and lots of crying for a couple of days, but I also get kinda bitchy.  But mostly it’s crying, and anything sets me off.  Luckily, unlike the other crap, this only lasts for a day or two.  Although I’ve never killed anyone that I care to admit, I think that She-Ra also suffered from XPMS (click the link to watch). When you have XPMS and a sword, people had better run.

The last part of this great phase that makes it all especially fun is the Migraine.  I have told all about my fun with migraines in a previous post, Brains on the Floor.  I get a really fabulous headache with all of this, it just really makes it extra great.  When you have kids, you have to get them to try to understand that Mommy is out of commission for awhile.  I have to lay on the couch with the lights off and the curtains closed and pray for sweet death.  My daughter kisses me on the head and tells me she is going to take care of me, and then gets out the musical instruments that make the most noise.  Honey, you said you were going to take care of me, not cause my brains to ooze out of my ears.

It just really sucks, being a girl sometimes, you know?  And then the shit really hits the fan when that’s over and the fun really begins.  CRAMPS!  Yay.  Take an Advil, grab a heating pad, and curl up under a blanket for a few hours.  Oh yes, and by the way, those commercials where the lady is doing yoga and wearing all white, that’s a myth.  You can’t do that.  At least I can’t, because it would be really messy and gross.

The best thing about being pregnant, aside from being able to eat whatever I wanted, was the fact that for a couple of years of my adult life I didn’t have to deal with any of this stuff.  I’m not saying that labor was a picnic because it wasn’t, but I’m talking about the rest of the time…

It’s not like we really get a break from feeling lousy aside from that.  I understand once you finish having all of this fun you get a whole new set of stuff to deal with, like hot flashes.  Oh wow I can’t wait!  To paraphrase Frank Barone from Everybody Love Raymond, “What lottery in hell did I win?”  What did we women do to deserve all of this every month?

What, me irritable?  I’m just getting warmed up… somebody pass me a Gas-X.  Now let’s have some Apple Crisp and forget it all ever happened.

Oh did somebody invent that yet? Maybe I need to get on that. Men all around the world would thank me. Or maybe make more Peanut Butter Bars.