Last night I came very close to judging a couple having a fight in Target. They were in the kitchen department and the guy (wearing a trucker hat…I’m sorry, is it 2003, Ashton?) was saying something like, “I’m not even going to justify that…” and the woman scoffed and said, “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. Let’s go.”
I was totally snickering and my lips were literally forming the words to make some snotty comment about how this was just one step up from Wal-Mart when I remembered that, yeah, I probably shouldn’t.
Because I maybe stood in that very same department a few months and (almost) screamed at my lovely fiance who didn’t exactly understand why we needed a new mattress, “Don’t try to placate me with a new coffee grinder. We don’t need a new coffee grinder because you’ve never had sex with anyone else on the old one.”
Not, perhaps, my finest moment.
Touche, universe. Touche.