You know, I'd really like to run into her on the street, because that would give me a very socially acceptable reason to shout "Hey! Hey BEOTCH!"

And that would be great.

Speaking of running into people, Sally and I went to Target last night. She was there to buy some poster frames. Myself, I wanted to purchase socks.

Such is the sexy life I lead.

Anyway, as soon as we parked, I got this powerfully strong feeling that I was going to run into someone I knew. Walking through the store, I saw this old man that I thought looked somewhat familiar. I later determined that I did not know this eldery gent.

However, since my spidey senses were tingling oh so hard, I'd bet that somewhere, evil was afoot. Did any Chicago D'landers head out to Target on Elston last night? If you aren't sure you saw me, I was the guy testing the $20 pillows by holding them up to my head, until I wondered whether other disgusting and classless people had done the same thing.

(Fun Fact: When I was a wee lad, I was not as articulate as I am now. I used to say "pellows" and "melk." That story causes Sally to vomit in disdain.)

So, we leave the store. I am sockless, as I don't feel like spending money for foot wear. Besides, there is the old saying "Let your mother buy you socks!" which is the companion saying to "Don't ask for shoes for Christmas, stupid!"

I never did that. But a neighborhood kid did, back in the day. He was universally disliked.

The parking lot, nighttime, just as Target is closing: As we're heading back to the car, a strong gust of wind kicks up. Ten or so parking places down, we see a shopping cart that is essentially acting like a sail, cruising it's way across the nearly empty lot.

The thirteen year old boy in me came to life and gained control of my faculties. I shouted, (ironically, mind you) affecting a white trashy accent "Hoo! Look at that cart go!" Then, the wind died down, and the cart started to slow. Feeling as silly as we were, that would have been enough, but God Himself intervened to supply more fun.

The wind blustered up again, and the cart continued the journey it started, picking up speed. A few moments later, it became quite apparent that it was definitely going to hit one of those parking space cement blocks. The thirteen year old boy in my brain immediately ceded control to the nine year old boy waiting in the wings, and I began to shout "Oh! Oh! Uh! Man! Wow! Oh!" while pointing and gesticulating awkwardly.

The climax had arrived. Rocketing now, the cart smashed into the cement block, offering a very satisfying noise that only aluminum meeting stone can provide. The cart tipped forward on its' front wheels, teasing us with the promise of spilled contents and general mayhem. It hung in the air for a second, and then crashed back down the way it had come, not tipping over but instead coming to rest on all four wheels.

From my deep unconscious, up through my throat, and out my mouth: "DANG!"

So disappointing!

My shout echoed through the parking lot. Sally and I, incredibly silly people as we are, began to laugh, as there was much here at which to laugh. Then, we noticed someone running towards the errant cart. Then, we realized how loud we had been.

Then: "Shit! That was someone's stuff?!? Let's get out of here!!!"

And so we did.

The heat wave is over in Chicago. It is cold again. My pants are confused.