Target: The Shopaholic’s Viagra

I often wondered what men did before Viagra.

It really wasn’t until Pfizer’s started aggressively marketing the drug that erectile dysfunction was on the radar.  Birth rates, after all, were in tact.

But Pfizer, and that Bob Dole commercial, where the Senator in a Barbara Walters-worthy camera moment ‘fessed up to having problems, seemed to implant a seed of self-doubt into the national psyche and suddenly men everywhere “needed” Viagra.

Target, I feel, plays the same mind games with shoppers.

No one goes to Target to purposely buy Cheez-Its or Hello Kitty notepads.  But once locked inside that maze of aisles and neon lights, you forget you live in a small two-bedroom apartment and become convinced you “need” nonsensical things like a discounted Citrus Tango Yankee Candle and a set of bag clips.

When I caught eyeing a heart shape Valentine’s Day wreath made of fake berries during a recent shopping trip, I knew I entered the dangerous zone between leisurely Sunday more shopping excursion and gross consumerism.  I needed to take my ATM card and get the hell out.

3 responses to “Target: The Shopaholic’s Viagra

  1. It’s like going into the “Dollar Tree.” Okay, I only need one thing and it will only cost a buck. Yeah, right. I never leave that store without spending at least $35. As for Hilda Spitzer, she’s much better off without that lowlife, sleazeball of a husband she had!

    Like

  2. Story of my life

    Like

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