I am a whore, just a big ole whoooooore. Lemme tell ya why.

Saturday night at our house is 'escape from chirruns' night. Sam and Scout go to Biff's and Mathias goes to Nana's. Glory Hallelujah.

Soooo, this past Saturday night found Maxim and I headed for Birmingham with no set plans save for the edict that we must slaughter some time in a leisurely manner.

Dearest Readery-type People, we went to *begin trumpeting on high* Target. TAR.GET.

QUICKISH SIDE NOTE: Does anyone else remember when Target was no more than a chain of crappy, junky, overcrowded-with-shit-merchandise stores? /side note

This is where whoredom begins and shines in all its' eeeevile glawwwray. If all mass marketing and gross commercialism were packaged like Target, then I would most certainly take every inch of it lovingly and eagerly up the behind and squeal in delight as I did so. I woooooould, and don't you argue with me and tell me I wouldn't. If we had the loveliness that is Target up on this here mountain, Wal-Mart would sooooo be in trouble with regard to the Superior clan. We would be heretics in the face of our former devotion to Wally Woild, oh yes we would.

We spent nearly THREE HOURS in Target. I swear to God we did. I lusted openly over all manner of things, from footlockers to wall-mounted coat racks to stationery (my inalienable weakness....fresh paper and pens are like CRACK-ROCK to me, I swear). I was hooked barely five feet into the store, where a carefully-executed cross-marketing campaign was in full swing. They had all the cute little lounge seperates (boxers and baby tees and the like) with cereal mascots emblazoned across them appealingly arranged next to neat little displays of --wait'll you hear this!-- the cereals themselves. Oh, for the complete, unadulterated panty-goo inducing JOYYYY!!!

I nearly bought a faux jewel-studded steering wheel cover, but I didn't, because I was so significantly torn between that and the Hotwheels-themed one with the inset rubber flames. *pantpant* To my absolute glee, I found a little bobbly Hawaiian-shirted guy with ukelele that came with dashboard-friendly velcro for only $2.44. It was marked down from, like, $10.76 or something. Maxim hasn't been able to find one of the little hula girls for his dash locally --and besides, this one was a tad more original-- so he bought Ukelele D00d.

I was particularly enamored of the fact that they had those awesome-ass nubby playground balls in all sizes (all the better to kill you with at dodgeball, my deeeear!). I swooned. I did.

We even devised a new game while we were there. Because, you know, when the happy vibes are jumpin', the creative juices are a-pumpin'.....

The new game went like this, and I heartily encourage you to play along in your own neighboring metropolitan area. In other words, try not to do this shit in your hometown, you boob.

Pick a store. One with a wide variety of merchandise. This makes your selecting of a victim fellow player (hereinafter known as the Player Unaware) much, much easier. Also, you'll be able to choose from many different types of Players Unaware.

Selection of Player Unaware is simple: it must be someone who is pondering over whether or not to put any given item into their basket. You know the type. They approach the shelf, fondle an item, maybe even pick it up for closer observation, put it down, step back from the shelf to observe said item from afar and then repeat the process from one to ad infinitum. This is where YOU (hereinafter known as Player Aware) come into play. Browse their aisle. Be shopperly, shopperlike, whatever. Do it for as long as you feel is necessary to make yourself convincing as an innocuous Fellow Shopper. Get within speaking distance of Player Unaware....I find that approximately three to six feet is best. Mention to Player Unaware that you have That Exact Thing at home and you Absolutely Love It, for it is the fire and not to be lived without. When they deliver up the inevitable "Oh, reaaaaallllly?" give a suitable answer to the affirmative and maybe a supporting detail or two. Be extra-careful not to go too over-the-top with your playacting, or you will undoubtedly scare them away (don't want Player Unaware to peg you for the nutcase you truly are!). You win if they place the item in their basket or armload. It's that simple.

People are such sheep that I can just about GUARANTEE a 75% or better kill ratio ('kill ratio' is the friendly term we utilize to classify those Players Unaware that you have gently connived into making their purchase).

Maxim and I just tracked the kill ratio on Saturday evening, but there are all sorts of variations and scoring that we plan on implementing on our next consumery trip out. Scoring based on time is an option. Point values based on dollars you convinced Player Unaware to spend is another. Higher points for couples? The risky double-or-nothing repeat Player Unaware (imagine the riskiness of that endeavour...what if you are recognized as the person who told them to buy that fantastic juicer the last time they were in??)...

You may play this game in any ole retail establishment, but a largish store works better for the obvious fact that you can flee to an opposite corner of the place and laugh like hell at your victim Player Unaware. This also helps if you want to play again and again within the confines of one store over a period of several minutes or hours. You must of course take care to ensure that a recent Player Unaware is not in the near vicinity, for you will be busted, maybe receive a severe upbraiding and possibly risk 86dom from that store. And holy geez, what if this great new superuber underground entertainment were to make the local news? You'd be out some greaaaat free entertainment due to your insanely gross lack of care. Plus you'd be an even BIGGER embarrassment to yer ma.

There is only ONE rule, and that is YOU SHALT NOT DO THIS TO LITTLE KIDS. They are off-limits for several reasons, including but not limited to:
-their parents or a security person may happen along and mistake you for a pedophile, and rightfully so, if you are the kind of creepy bastard that approaches children out of the blue.
-what if that kid is spending his carefully-earned nickels on something they may never otherwise get because of short-sightedness on some lame adult's part?
-they may get wise to you and your juvenile shenanigans....most kids are pretty hip nowadays.

Teenagers, of course, are fair game because they go around acting like asses as a general rule and tend to go out of their way to make everyone else on the planet as annoyed and miserable as they *pretend* to be (or think they are).

*sigh* I am so brilliant. Now I must go and tax my brain in search of a neato name for this, the superest of all mayhemian pursuits.

Can I say again that Target just rocks my dumb ass?

And oh, lest I forget the wonder of all wonders, their associates were actually friendly and helpful. Those crabby bitches at Wal-Mart are SO in trouble if Target makes it onto this mountain. SOOOO in trouble!