if i wanted to live in the third world...

I'd move back there. Instead, it seems the Third World has moved to me in the form of my neighborhood Target store, whose shelves are more barren than the empty hole where my heart should be.


That's where the knickers should be! But as you've noticed by now. THERE'S NARY A PAIR OF DRAWERS THERE! Even when I lived in the former U.S.S.R., I never had this much trouble trying to buy things. Especially undergarments, which were so ubiquitously available that I could pick up a couple of pairs on the street next to the neighborhood vodka stand on my way home from doing whatever sketchy activities I had engaged in the night before that may or may not have resulted in me rolling out of a moving vehicle, breaking into a historical cemetery or otherwise losing my unmentionables at the Kremlin (*wink* Putin!). Although, apparently, since Russia is still "developing," as it were, it can still be a bit dangerous when buying said underwear, but the point is, AT LEAST I CAN BUY IT.

Which is more than I can say for my local Target located in the so-called Capital of the Free World. And while I may not fear being pipe-bombed while I'm shopping like I may have in Moscow, my neighborhood Target does not make me want to chant "USA! USA! USA!" which really says something, as those of you who know me personally know that nearly everything makes me want to chant "USA! USA! USA!"

A cheeseburger? "USA! USA! USA!"

A milkshake? "USA! USA! USA!"

A firearm? "USA! USA! USA!"

Roadkill? "USA! USA! USA!"

Train robbery? "USA! USA! USA!"

Obesity epidemic? "USA! USA! USA!"

But the Columbia Heights Target? Hmm...

And the dearth of underoos wasn't the only problem at this establishment. The good salsa was also gone. And don't even get me started on the bean aisle. In fact, THERE WASN'T EVEN A BEAN AISLE! What kind of Communist Target is this?!

It's stupid. That's what.

What's even more stupid? I then went to the neighborhood grocer and found this:


DISCONTINUED?! NOOOOOO! NOT MY NEWMAN'S OWN BALSAMIC MIST SALAD SPRITZER! O! THE HUMANITY! What will my neighborhood strip from me next? Besides my will to live, I mean, because clearly that's already gone.