Saturday, September 10, 2005

The Miracle of Our Lady of Target

Sometimes it takes just one little thing to shake you out of a funk.

It started with smoke coming out of my blender.

I had a smoking blender.

So I head to Target or as the wealthy people who shop there say, "Targeau" to buy a new blender. Target is the rich man's Walmart. You can always tell who the rich people are at Target because they're wearing designer clothes that are supposed to make them look poor.

I'm driving to "Targeau" and an old Nissan Sentra with a tinted rear window pulls out in front of me with a bumper sticker that says, "Good Girls go to Heaven, Bad Girls go Everywhere."

If you're a guy, and you see that bumper sticker, you do what any normal guy would do, you do whatever it takes to get next to that car to see what that girl looks like.

C'mon.... we all do it. We don't even need that bumper sticker.

No matter how hard I try I can't get into visual checkout position. Then I notice there are three other guys in cars doing the same thing I'm doing. We're all jockeying for position.

We look like a pack of dogs chasing a butterfly at the start of the Indy 500.

Seven miles later three out of the four of us lose the Nissan Sentra in traffic. One putz in a black BMW isn't giving up. I don't really care. What am I going to do if I catch up to her? Bring her home to my wife and say, "Look honey I found a slut. I think she's a stray. Can we keep her?"

So I head over to Target and do the "drive around until I find the closest parking space game". I suck at this game. I see a parking space that's close, but is it close enough? Can I make one more pass and get a few spaces closer?

Old people are the best at this game because they're not afraid to ram you if they think they can get the space.

I opt for one more pass and I'm cut off by?

THE TINTED WINDOW SENTRA WITH THE BUMPER STICKER!!!!!!

AHA!!!!

Every once in a while God gives guys like me a small victory.

If I use my catlike reflexes I can swoop in on her left and get a good view.

But wait......

Up ahead there are the tell tale signs of parking space availability.

TWO CARS SIDE BY SIDE WITH THEIR REVERSE LIGHTS ON!!!!!

I CAN'T LOSE!!!!!

Tinted window Sentra slut and I are going to be parked side by side.

I flip my turn signal, which is the universal sign of putting my "dibs" on a parking space, when out of the corner of my eye I spot the black BMW.

He's going to try the "swoop technique" of pretending to pass on my left then swoop in just as the parked car pulls out.

NOT TODAY BEEMER BOY!!!!!

I swing out and angle my Caddy to block the whole damn lane. From this angle I can tell that tinted window Sentra slut has long dark hair.

We wait for both parked cars to pull out and in an almost Zen like parking ballet swing our cars simultaneously into the vacant stalls.

Beemer boy flips me off as he goes by.

I am now parked side by side with tinted window Sentra slut.

I very nonchalantly look to my left....

Tinted window Sentra slut....

HAS A BEARD AND A MOUSTACHE!!!!!!!

SHE'S A GUY!!!!

SHE, HE, IT, LOOKS LIKE JESUS!!!!

C'mon...

That's not fair....

I can't bring Jesus home to my wife. How would I explain it? I thought Jesus was a slut?

It's not like I'm not used to this, it's just every once in a while I'd like a win. Not a major win, not the Lotto, just a quick peek at a hot chick that likes to advertise. Is that too much to ask?

But then a miracle appeared to me.

Beemer boy was still circling.

He hadn't seen Jesus yet.

Jesus isn't getting out of the car. I don't know why, maybe he's putting on makeup.

I'm not looking to my left again. I don't want to look, you know, gay or anything.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I time it so that I pull out of the parking space just as Beemer boy makes the turn pretending that I'm angrily talking on my cell phone.

He pulls in to my vacated parking space with this smug grin.

I wait.

Briefly.

Beemer boy has looked to his left. Now in an almost "Exorcist" move his head turns back and he looks at me with this horrified gaze.

I give him the universal sign of "you're number one" and drive off.

One small victory.

Damn....

I forgot the blender.