Suburban angst

So, I did a Target run last night. I do these at the last possible moment. When I start wondering whether they’re serious about the whole “do not reuse contact solution” or if that’s merely a suggestion, I know it’s time to go to Target.

And only today, in America, can you go somewhere that has so much stuff and not find what you actually need. Fortunately, the good people at Target realize that their “target” (oh, ho, ho, I slay me) demographic may want plain tuna fish, rather than tuna fish infused with lemon and pepper or sun-dried tomatoes.

Sometimes, there are simply too many choices. They recently remodeled our local Target, so I spend a lot of time wandering down aisles because I don’t know where anything is anymore. At one point, I got sucked into sparkly packaging clearly aimed at the teen girl demographic. I give you the new:

Secret deodorant — Scent Expressions.

(Click through at your own risk, graphic intensive, music, and purple prose.)

Because you’re no one if you don’t have your signature deodorant, no? So, I’m looking at the choices: kuku coco butter, arctic apple, brazilian cherry (I was going to make a waxing joke here, but I’ll refrain). But my favorite?

Vanilla chai.

I’m still trying to figure out why someone would want their underarms to smell like vanilla chai. Can’t you just see it? The back of mommy or daddy’s SUV, a passionate moment, the boy looks deeply into his girlfriend’s eyes and says:

“Wow. Your armpits are making me thirsty … wanna go to Starbucks?”*

I bought plain tuna fish (four pack), some contact solution, and the toilet paper with the puppy on it, because Kyra loves the puppy.

I passed on the vanilla chai deodorant.

*I’m calling dibs on the armpit line. I may want to use it someday. Just remember, you read it here first.