target
“what is it about the green ones?”
normally i sit around and salivate at the thought of buttery popcorn or sucking the salt off of pretzels. however, for some reason i have recently gotten a bit of a sweet tooth daily at about 3 pm. i don’t know why, but if it’s going to be sweet, it’s got to be chocolate.
naturally, i went next door to target over my lunch break. halloween candy on clearance?! sign me up! i bought three bags of m&m’s: milk chocolate, dark chocolate, and peanut butter for a grand total of $5. as always, at 3 pm the urge hit me and i cracked open the bag of peanut butter m&m’s. after eating 10 and deciding that i am in actuality getting a bit heavier from my increased caloric intake, i reached into my desk drawer for a paperclip, loosely sealed the bag, and went to put the one-pound bag back into my file cabinet drawer when a small saying on the back of the bag caught my eye.
directly above the bar code and next to the nutritional information, the phrase “what is it about the green ones?” boasted itself clearly.
The Green Ones
so what, exactly, is it with the green ones? as urban legend would have it, the dye in the green m&m candy coating was an aphrodisiac and it became fairly common knowledge that green m&m’s “make you horny.”
side note: i learned that green m&m’s make one feel a bit amorous in elementary school. my best friend at the time, kristin, was eating m&m’s out of the dish at her house when she was about 7 years old when her older, 12 year-old sister told her that she should ONLY eat the green ones. when kristin asked why, her sister told her proudly that they’d make her horny! i’m sure kristin’s sister thought this was hilarious when her little sister consumed every last green candy… until of course kristin’s mother asked her why she only ate the green ones. kristin responded boastfully with a large smile that the reason was because “they make me horny, mom!” inevitably, big sister got in a bit of trouble.
so, if green m&m’s are the legal (and drastically less potent) version of ecstasy, would the marketing department really make a point to print that on the bag? i have to surmise that it was entirely intentional, especially because afterall, “nothing services like a good bohn,” and “innovation never felt so[ooooooo] good.”
digression:
rumor has it that the true renteria dance may be resurrected. renteria is synonymous with victory.
Edgar Renteria
who would i trade for renteria? absolutely anyone. he is one of my all-time favorite baseball players, and i was horribly saddened to see him go to detroit this past year. if he comes back to atlanta, i will be one very happy lady. renteria and peavy? i’m salivating, and not over m&m’s anymore.
(crap. colin, i will write another julio teheran article soon. i’ll have to pull out my spanish-speaking skills again. afterall, i did get 14th in the national spanish exam in 10th grade simply by guessing!)
kiosk question queue
There are few things that annoy me quite as much as the five to ten questions on the credit card kiosk at a retailer. I just want it to read my card, spit it out, and let me go on my way. Don’t get me wrong, I have no gripes with the logical and security questions: I don’t mind putting in my pin for debit transactions, and I don’t mind signing for credit ones. However, I do mind being asked if I want cash back, or if have read and accepted the terms and conditions, or if I want to sign up for the retailers credit card for 15% off of my next purchase, and if I’m sure about all of the previous answers I have given. I’ve noticed it takes longer and longer to check out these days, all thanks to the seemingly infinite question queue at the kiosk.
Credit Card Touch Screen Kiosk
Today, however, Target outdid itself. I stopped by to grab a coffee and muffin on my way back from lunch and inserted my debit card to pay for my items. $6.25. Fine. PIN: **** - check. Cash back: ugh, no –check. Am I sure: yes, I’m sure - check. Finally, I looked away from the screen thinking I had completed my transaction since it had seemingly become so routine. The clerk stared at me. I looked back down. She was waiting for me to finish – but I was sure there were no more questions! One final and very perplexing question presented itself on the screen: Are you sure you want to put the entire amount on this card?
Target
Seriously? It’s $6.25! Maybe that was Target’s way of mocking me since I typically spend anywhere between $40 and $200 each time I walk through those inviting red doors. Target is taunting me, saying “seriously, Lindsay? You’re at Target! $6.25? Wow, don’t spend it all in one place…”
The only interesting thing about the new question in the queue is that now I am fully aware that I can buy a lot more stuff at Target, putting 45% of it on my debit card, 50% of it on my credit card, and the remaining 5% on that stack of $5 Target gift cards I get every time I lug the 44.1 pound bag of Purina dog food through the store. I guess the never-ending question queue is helping me find new ways to spend my money, or lack thereof.