Your love is a vaudeville show, so charming and obscene. *

It is disgusting how much I love Target. It's been one of my very favorite stores for years, but tonight, my passion was only intensified. You see, about a month ago, I purchased a pair of shoes* that I planned to wear for the kickboxing class I signed up to take. The class got cancelled, but I'd already started wearing the shoes, so I couldn't take them back. I liked them, besides. But then, about a week or so ago, I noticed that the liner in the right one was completely detached from the shoe. Every time I wore the shoes, the liner would slowly migrate backward, so that by the end of the day it was all hiked up behind my heel.

Since I was heading for Target tonight anyway and wore the shoes to work today, I decided to take a chance and see if I could exchange them for another identical pair. I didn't feel like taking the time to go home in between, so I had to walk up to the customer service counter and explain that I needed to exchange the shoes that were on my feet. The customer service girl didn't even blink, which I guess means either Target is used to weirdass customers, or Target has cool employees. She sent me to get the new pair, and to get back to the customer service desk--which is near the exit doors--I had to mosey through an empty checkout line like a smooth criminal.

When I reached the desk again, I ended up with a second customer service girl, who seemed somewhat amused by my brazen shoe-swapping. She said, "I just need to see your shoes to do the exchange." When I didn't produce them immediately, she hesitated, then asked, "Are you wearing them?" I replied, "Um, yes." She shrugged and said, "Okay." I took them off and handed them over, and she acted like this happens to her all the time while I stood there playing it cool and acting like I stand in my socks at major retailers every day of the week. No sweat, man. It's all good. Nothing to see here!

Then she clipped the tags off and handed over the new shoes, and I put them on and went to buy this:



Since MB has been complaining about the piles of papers all over the desk, uttering such (possibly huffy, slightly melodramatic) statements as, "I just can't work in this mess!" I figure Target may have saved both his sanity and my right foot tonight. An impressive achievement, to be sure.



Because "karstification" is a great word

Tomorrow afternoon I'm heading to Indianapolis for a Project Underground workshop on Wednesday. Being a big huge nerd, I can't wait. I'm going to learn how to teach kids about karst, and that's all right with me.



And finally, stolen from Hollow Squirrel:

(I have visited 72% of the states in the U.S.
(Sort of. The map generator treats DC like a state.)

* And now comes the question of the day: what do you call the kind of shoes you buy to do exercise-y / active-type things whilst wearing? My mom always calls them "gym shoes," but that doesn't seem accurate since I don't spend much time in gyms anymore. "Tennis shoes" is a similarly inaccurate label. "Sneakers" sounds hopelessly goofy, like I should also have a sweater tied about my shoulders by the sleeves. "Running shoes" is not correct since I didn't get them at a running shoe shop, and would probably damage my knees if I tried to run in them. "Athletic shoes" just makes me think of "athletic supporters," and that's not so pleasant. Perhaps "trainers" is the best and safest choice? What do you guys call them?



Reading: Round Ireland With a Fridge by Tony Hawks

Playing: mixification