Off Target

And so today, I went to Target to buy a couple “last minute” items for Father’s Day.  Like, cards and something that my father can put on a shelf and ignore for another year.   Aside from Mother of the Year, I am also in the running for Wife and Daughter of the Year.  All is right in the world.  Mediocrity at its best.

Anyhow, I get there, catch my reflection in the mirror and decide that I would look less fat and awful, if I took the keys and cell phone out of my sweats and shoved them into my purse.  The improvement was nothing to write home about.  I put my purse in the cart and started my normal route around Target.  I will always walk by the $8 t-shirts and tanks of which I have so many in so many different colors, it is disturbing.  I then go by the workout stuff and the pajamas.  Anyhow, I did not buy any crap today that I did not need, at least not really.  I went by the toys and found some “make believe doctor” type toys that I knew J and J would love so I picked that up and then I grabbed the cart and went on my way. 

I headed straight for the DVD section where I was certain I would find something suitable for my father.  I did.  Threw said Clint Eastwood Western compilation into cart with fake medical kit.  I then walked over to the electronics section thinking that maybe I would find him some kind of handheld game that he could play without moving from the couch.  And then, I realized I had not checked my phone for the last several minutes.  And THEN, I noticed that my cart had no purse in it.  My purse was gone.  The little area where a purse should be wholly lacked a purse.  And honestly, I had NO IDEA how that happened.  And then, a red polo shirt saleswoman walked by and I must have looked pale and nauseated and frantic but she said nothing and walked by.  And I decided to retrace my steps. 

I would not have held my heavy ass purse because there was perfectly good compartment to hold my purse. So, I figured I would go to where I was and see if someone there saw the bastard Pomona shit steal my purse so I could make a report to the police. Then I figured that all Pomona hooligans stick together and so why would anyone help.  I then cursed Pomona, sweat pooling in my still too tight underwire.  Not by the DVDs.  Go to the toy section.  Father-daughter still negotiating about a Barbie.  Pleased at this point that although I do not have a purse, I also do not have any Barbie heads in my house.  I glare at the father because he must be in on the delinquency whereby my purse is now with some gang member in Pomona. 

I am seething and fuming and upset that I have lost all my contacts and a few hundred bucks, all my credit cards.  My new giraffe wallet.   Totally irritated that I have to go to the POMONA DMV.  There is nothing worse than Pomona DMV, you go there to risk your life.  My newly opened Carmex.  My CAR KEYS.  I couldn’t even call Julio to ask him to pick me up because I HAD NO PHONE.  DAMN POMONA!

And I go up and down the aisles.  Aisles I did not even go in.  And there is an empty cart with just my purse in it.  My untouched purse, an empty cart.