Inside a Woman's Mind at Target

A trip to Target is a lot like how I imagine heroine must be. There's always a rush of excitement when you first walk inside, and most times you're not even sure why you're there to begin with, yet almost every time you leave with a feeling of remorse, guilt and a set of new track marks on your arms. But still in the back of your mind you already know you'll be returning very soon... to take something back you tell yourself.

Somewhere along the line it spread through the stay-at-home-mom circle that Target is the best place to bring your screaming child on a Friday morning, because they are everywhere. The mothers all have that same dazed look in their eye, that look that says they are so emotionally beat down from their child's torment all week but they are going to persevere on regardless. They're going to pick up their new razors, a witty birthday card for their friend, and an unnecessary decorative plate on clearance even if it kills them. And it just might.

When I'm past the mothers the first thing I'm drawn to is the dollar section. Even though I know it's going to be there every time I walk into Target it still manages to take me by surprise. But I'm not going to get duped this time, I don't need yet another stack of brightly colored plastic cups. I'm going to walk on by.... but wait, are those miniature bags of Combos? Perfect for an afternoon snack! And linen lined wicker baskets? I can't pass up a basket. I just can't. You can never have too many baskets. Never ever ever. And they're only a dollar after all. I might as well grab a few polka dot miniature tin buckets as well, you know, to keep pens in or something. Or maybe I'll give one to a friend I don't really like as a gift. Why not? They're only a dollar.

I'm distracted by the dollar section only when I happen to notice that swimsuits are on display once again. Oh, it reminds me of college spring break I think to myself. I wander over to take a gander, just for memory's sake. It's still cold outside but the new summer collection by some special designer "made exclusively for Target" makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. I suddenly love this new fake designer I've never heard of. A $17 nautical coverup?  Never mind that swimsuit season is over two months away, you can't beat that price. I need this coverup! I might as well grab a new sun hat while I'm at it.

I walk away from the clothing section only after I browse the clearance rack of tops and bottoms. I'll pay $1 for a polka dot bucket but I'll be damned if I'm going to pay $3.99 for a fleece jacket, besides it's basically summertime. But then I find an adorable grey hoodie. I love hoodies. Who cares if it's labeled "maternity?" What does that really even mean anyway?  I put it in my cart as a "maybe" just in case. I don't try anything on because it's Target, it's not like a real clothing store, you know? And because the ladies working the dressing rooms are all usually pretty mean.

What did I come here for again I ask myself. Oh yeah, hairspray. But that's clear across the store so I better take the long way there wandering through the aisles of furniture and trendy patterned pillows. Target actually has pretty cute furniture I think to myself. I'm about to stop and look at an unusually small leather couch I don't need when I suddenly see a group of women hustling over to a specific aisle. I can smell their excitement and I know a sale must be going on. Like a good Target customer, I follow the herd.

I'm led to an aisle of frenzied women quickly heaving items into their carts. I feed off of their intensity and immediately start grabbing things for myself. I discover that it's an aisle of marked down Mardi Gras decorations. I've never had Mardi Gras decorations in my life, but suddenly I need all of them. I need the purple and green table runner, and the party string of masks to hang above my kitchen sink, and even the plates and cups because in an instant I've already decided there's a good chance I might have a Mardi Gras party next year. I mean I have the decorations now, so why wouldn't I? It only makes sense.

Two women fight over the last colorful jester door decoration and I eye them with contempt. Get a hold of yourself I think, it's just a door decoration. But suddenly a man in a red Target shirt and khaki pants brings out another colorful jester and discreetly sets it on the shelf next to me and I move toward it like it's my first born caught in a fire. I've always wanted a colorful jester to hang on my door. And now I've got one!

The crying child I saw earlier sits happily in his cart next to three new toys: Hungry Hungry Hippos, a Ninja Turtle, and a Spiderman car he has already opened. He holds his new prize toy in his hand with a smile on his face and as I look at my jester I can't help but think we're not all that different. His mom returns and carefully lays three bottles of wine at his feet. She looks happy, as well.

After I have my jester I make it a point to get to the cosmetics. I came in here for face wipes, after all. Right? Yeah I think so. I browse the ends of the aisles for anything marked down that I might need. A coffee mug that says "Chicago" or a framed photo that says "Blessed" or maybe even a new blanket. I love new blankets. But by this time I'm starting to come down a bit and nothing seems cheap enough for me to put in my cart so I eventually get to the makeup aisle.

I'm pretty sure the main reason I came in here today is to get face lotion so I grab a bottle (Up & Up brand because it's basically the same thing and I don't come to Target just to waste money.) Or did I come in here to get a new blush brush? I don't switch out my brushes enough and this one is on sale so I grab it.

When I get to the checkout my cart is full and I'm exhausted. As the cashier starts ringing my items up I see things in my cart I don't recognize. "Oh that's not mine," I say as she rings up a t-shirt that says "I Am Fat Tuesday." She puts it aside and smiles at me condescendingly. My final is bill is $208.00. What in the hell just happened I wonder? It's like I was in a blackout.

But I wasn't. I was in a redout. I obediently sign my name on the debit card screen feeling a little sick for how much I've just spent. The cashier hands me my receipt and says "thank you for shopping at Target, see you soon!"

I won't be back for awhile I think to myself. "Yes you will," she responds. And I look at her like, did I just say that out loud? "No, no you didn't" the cashier says and she starts to laugh like the menacing drug dealer she is.

I quickly grab my bags and run out into the blistery Friday morning toward my car, past the other strung out mothers dragging their babies inside to get their fix. The wind blows through my hair and as I load my bags into my trunk and sit down into my driver's seat I realize one thing: I forgot hairspray.

Vitamin D

I've been in a bit of a funk this week. I don't know what it is, but I'm just slow moving lately. All of the normal things I do have been taking me twice as long the past few days. Getting ready in the morning, sending emails, writing new material, blah blah blah. It's all just been so tedious this week. Anyone else feeling this way? Can we still blame this on the weather?

I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that last week was just really good. It's always hard to follow a super fun weekend by a week of just blah, you know? Whenever my family comes to town the days zoom by. Just last Friday I was picking them up at the train station with a belly full of anxiety all nervous for my show that evening.

Just for the record I now hate my "winter blonde-ish hair." You better believe I'm going back to my extremely un-natural white hair May 1st. We've all got our vices, mine just happens to be bleached hair. You can take the girl out of of Nebraska but you can't take the Nebraska out of the girl. And I'm okay with that.

Anyway, here's a few favorite photos from the past weekend.

Harlow gets confused when Chris and I use our "Lola" voice because it's very similar to our "Harlow" voice. Harlow is great with babies, Lola grabbed his bone right from his mouth and he just wagged his tail like okay, you win. But he's not great when Chris and I give Lola more attention. He will butt his way in however possible (like you see above) to make sure he is the center of our attention. I don't think he'd be a very good big brother.

Blurry but cute.

Saturday was spent brunching with bloodys. In case you're wondering I inherited my love for Bloody Marys from my parents. It's a good tradition to pass on I think.

Lola was about to make a speech with the ketchup bottle.

And the last of our weekend was spent at Eataly. Eataly is quickly becoming one of my favorite places to hang out with a few glasses of wine on a chilly weekend. If you ever come to Chicago I would definitely put this place on your list.

Lola goes for the cheese. Just the entire block of it.

And it's because of all those photos why I am in a funk this week. I guess it's only fair, it's the yin and the yang. Some weeks are great, some aren't as great.

Cheers to Chicago getting some sunshine today! It's actually almost 30 degrees outside right now. I think a little vitamin D is just what I need. Catch you on the flip side.

What You're Giving Up For Lent Says About You

The good thing about Lent is that it comes around at just about the exact moment when no one can even remember what a New Years Resolution was in the first place. But this time we've got God on our side. We're serious now.

1. Sweets. 
You don't like to think outside of the box, you're a "stick to what I know" kinda person because chances are you've given this one up for the past ten years. And there's also a good chance you've got a vacation coming up or something where you'll be in sleeveless clothing and don't want your arms to jiggle like they are now. No judgment God gets it, have you seen his guns under that white robe?

2. Alcohol.
You don't have a vacation coming up. But now you've got a good excuse to stay in rather than go out during these next few months when you're still suffering from a little bit of winter blues and prefer to watch House of Cards rather than socialize with real people. Or you're an alcoholic.

3. Meat.
You're old school. Or you're too poor to buy meat right now.

4. Complaining. 
Even you can't stand the sound of your own whining voice as of late. Your mom won't return your phone calls and you've stopped getting texts from all of your friends because no one wants to hang out with you anymore since you've turned into such a Debbie Downer.  It's time for a change of attitude, God can help.

5. Coffee.
You don't have a job you hate.

6. Facebook.
You just got out of a relationship. There's no better excuse to jump ship than right now when you've got God behind you whispering words of encouragement like "You should totally just get off Facebook for a while to cleanse yourself, it will be just like the time my son got lost in the desert for forty days. He came back with like 60 new notifications."

Facebook is a tricky one though because as we all know your lenten sacrifice is only legit after you've posted it at least five times on Facebook. (Including the "good bye I'm giving up Facebook" Facebook status.)

7. Television.
But not Netflix.

8. Chocolate.
You've got a serious addiction to candy. Or you just like torturing yourself in preparation of the pounds of Reeses eggs and Snickers candy bars dressed in Easter wrappers that you are going to eat the moment the clock strikes midnight on Easter morning.

9. Wine.
You're not a mom.

10. Swearing.
You are a mom.

11. Smoking.
You don't live in Colorado.

12. Spending money on "frivolous items."
You buy a lot of frivolous shit. Chances are you might be a hoarder of seasonal house decorations from Tj Maxx and Target's clearance aisles.

13. Going out to eat.
You live in Chicago. And you might be getting a little fat.

14. Nothing. Nothing at all.
You got hammered on Fat Tuesday.

Happy Lent 2014! Let the hunger games begin.


*disclaimer: I love Lent and the real meaning behind it. I also love satire. If anyone wants to leave me a "you don't love Jesus" comment please refer to #4. And also #10.

Dear God, it's me Chicago.

Dear God,

How are ya? It's me, your old friend Chicago. Yeah, you know who I am. We had a brief falling out in '71 (1871 I mean) when you ran a fire through me but we've pretty much been good ever since. We've had some fun times together; St. Patricks Day 1947 ring a bell? I've never laughed so hard in my life.

Anyway, happy Ash Wednesday to you! This has always been one of my favorite religious holidays. Most likely because I was raised Irish Catholic and probably trick myself into confusing relief of guilt with joy, but if the robe fits am I right? I've got a favor to ask, God. Can you take it easy on my people (your Chicago people) for a while? Today's new snow storm even caught me off guard. It's just getting to be a little much, you know? I get that you're super into snow this year and you keep saying I'm bringing winter back, but you've done it. You brought it back. Now will you take it away already?

My people are worn down. And that's saying a lot because we're a tough breed out here. In the beginning we were like polar vortex schmolar vortex, we can take on anything. -45 no big deal, we'll just put on another layer of long underwear! Another blizzard? Bring it on, we'll just camp out in an underground bar and sip on Malort until we warm up. But then it was one snow storm after the other after the other. After the other. And it broke our spirit.

I can see it in their eyes. They've lost their sparkle. Usually my Chicagoans are a great friendly bunch, but they're not acting like themselves right now. They growl at each other to get a seat on the CTA or when someone accidentally bumps them with their huge winter parka. Couples fight about silly things like take your shoes off at the door! Singles are resorting to texting people they wrote out of their lives years ago. People are driving around in their cars like zombies, just a blank stare on their face until someone might accidentally cut them off and they are sent into a fit of rage. God, I saw two women in wedge boots fight for the last avocado at Trader Joe's yesterday. And that's your store.

But what's worse than the angry people are the ones who have just accepted defeat. They float about their days just accepting the fact that new Chicago will simply always have snow on the ground. It's the way it is now. Boots are permanently stained with a ring of salt and scarves will always be a little crusty from getting wet and then cold again. Sidewalks that once held outdoor seating are covered in three feet of old snow and ice. Brown slush and muck have lined the streets for over five months now. And the poor dogs have simply stopped looking for pavement. They'll go anywhere at anytime. It's just how life is now.

Last night was Fat Tuesday and Wrigleyville was empty, God. EMPTY. I know you probably get called to that neighborhood a lot and it's not exactly a shining light in my city, but still. That just doesn't seem right.

So please God, lighten up. Open up the waters, open the beer gardens, melt the snow. Fill the marinas with boats. Fill the streets with festivals and concerts. Bring the sunshine back. The bike paths, the beaches, even those douchey bars by the beaches, we'll take it all. The heat, the humidity, the smells of summer, even the tourists. We just need something. We need the joy of Chicago back.

I intended to write a much different post today. But I woke up and was completely surprised to find five new inches of snow outside my door with more on the way. I almost stated crying on the spot. I know that sounds pathetic, and I am pathetic, but I can't just take it anymore. I'm at my breaking point.

And the graphic I made for today just seems silly now. But the fact remains, I'm hosting a big one day sale. Keep your spirits up, friends. I'm off to smear ashes on my forehead.

Limited Too Tuesdays- Ways to Have a Great Summer

It's time for another edition of Limited Too Tuesdays, a post in which I look back through my old diaries to see what middle school me was up to. 

Today's selected entry is focused on how to have a great summer. 

Sunday April 8, 2001

#13. Stay Active... Did I write this list or did Michelle Obama? No wonder I weighed sixty pounds until I was fifteen. Look at what I was doing every day, just exercising all the time. I could play Olympics on the trampoline for literally hours. I would just jump and flip and twist and land the Kerri Strug one legged cartwheel all day long until I was so physically exhausted I couldn't move. But yet I would probably still fit in a thirty minute basketball workout and then jump on my scooter real quick to head to a friend's house. You know, just "staying active."

If memory serves, the summer of 2001 was the summer I had to dumpster dive at Burger King to find my retainer. Don't worry, I found it. And I went on to wear it for five more years until my dog ate it.

And just for the record I made Drill Team, I was also the captain until some of the moms tried to kick me off for making up a "questionable routine" to Britney's I'm a Slave For You. In hindsight perhaps 8th and 9th grade girls shouldn't have been dancing to that song after all. But the routine was so good, I still remember it to this day. 

And now I'm going to switch gears and tell you how you can win the easiest $500 of your life. 

Like I said , the prize is $500- via paypal, visa gift card, or target gift card.  The only requirement for you is to like a page (or many pages!) on Facebook.  The rafflecopter below makes it ridiculously easy to enter- you can like the facebook page directly through the rafflecopter.  Each page liked is a an entry into the giveaway.  This will literally take 30 seconds out of your day.  30 seconds for $500- I'd say that's a pretty high paying job!

Giveaway ends March 11, 2014.  All entries will be verified.  Giveaway open to international readers with a paypal account- visa or target gift cards will not be sent internationally.  Giveaway winner will be announced March 12, 2014.  

Brought to you by: 

The Life of Bon, The Daily Tay, My Keep Calm and Carry On, 

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That Night at the Laugh Factory

Let me tell you about last Friday night.

It's 9:50 p.m. and the Laugh Factory is filling up, I'm sitting upstairs in the green room with the other comedians and I'm as terrified as I have ever ever been in my life. All I can think about is that there is a crowd downstairs, a very large crowd I might add, who have paid money at one of the best comedy clubs in the city on a Friday night  to watch comedians make them laugh. And it makes me want to throw up.

But let's rewind to about 9:30 p.m. when I show up at The Laugh Factory with my parents and I proceed to wait in line with them until the general manager finds me and says "Taylor, you and your parents don't need to wait in line, what are you doing? You're a performer! You guys can hang out upstairs if you want or grab a drink at the bar." So I left my parents down at the bar while the manager led me upstairs to the green room, a room in which I imagine has held all of the greats before me, a room with probably more secrets than any other room, a room that is currently holding a few of my favorite comedians from around the city. They're drinking and chilling like it's no big deal, because to them it isn't. They do this every single night. But to me, it's a big deal. They look at me like, oh hey are you here to get us a drink?

"I'm Taylor" I say and I stick out my hand to shake theirs and I can barely hold it still. I've never felt more uncertain or nervous in my life. Before they even say hello I blurt, "I'm good, thanks." You know, because I imagined they just asked "how are you?" But they didn't. Don't mind me I just have tourettes, I like to blurt out responses to salutations that never happened.

"Wait, you're the other comedian?" One of the guy's asked, he happens to be someone who is really good and really big in the comedy scene in Chicago. I've caught his act numerous times and he always kills it.

"Uh yeah," I say and he smiles at me kindly. I'm sure he's thinking, "that's cute, this must be her make-a-wish."

When it's my turn to take the stage the house manager has warned me it's a bit of a rowdy crowd. I'm not necessarily worried about hecklers, I'm worried about being thrown off. My biggest fear before going on stage is that I will forget everything I want to say and will crumble in front of a real crowd, not just an open mic crowd, this is a real crowd. Right before I step on stage I take a deep breath and think to myself, you have no one to blame but yourself for being here right now, normal people don't torture themselves with situations like this. If I would have followed the "normal path" I could have been sitting at home on a cozy couch with a nice glass of wine and maybe a baby or something in my arms. Who am I kidding let's not get carried away, what I meant is I could have been at home with my two Vizsla pups by my side. But no, I choose to be at a comedy club with six other dudes telling dick jokes trying to hold my own to a crowd full of drunk people. And at that moment I was hating myself for it.

I grabbed the mic and looked into the first row faces and saw that look. That look of the audience that says make us laugh, circus monkey. So it was now or never. When I started talking and realized that my brain was indeed still working I started to relax just a tiny bit and begged myself to slow down. This is crazy I remember thinking as I looked out into a dark crowd of people and could actually hear laughter at the things I was saying. At one point I had a really surreal moment where it felt like I was watching myself and I couldn't help but think you are a total weirdo but this is so awesome. I need more of this.

And just like that my time was over. It was truly one of the best feelings I've ever had. (But I imagine making it to girls state high school basketball in 2004 would have been a close second.) I faked as much confidence on stage as I possibly could have at the moment, but obviously I've still got a very long way to go. I want what the other comedians had, that confidence that they own the stage. They own their jokes and you're going to laugh whether you like it or not. That's what I want.

I suppose if I want that I should probably stop taking photos of myself with the set list in the green room... But it's for the blog, I had to. Guess the other comedians don't have lifestyle blogs? This face right here you guys, this is the face of fear.

But I survived the night. And now I want to do it again. And again and again and again.

Thank you so much to everyone who came out to support me! I was able to meet a few blog readers after the show and that was so fun for me. The fact that you would come out on a cold Friday night to watch me tell jokes is just about the coolest thing ever, so thank you again to everyone.

Let's do this, March. I've got big expectations for you. Things are starting to get fun.

Girl In Beta

Introducing Mandi from Girl in Beta. Read what she has to say here, then you definitely want to click over to her blog, last time I checked she has a pretty powerful post up on her site for today.

1. Tell us a little about Girl In Beta.

Girl in Beta is where I share the overly-analytical, sentimental, introspective, and sarcastic notes from my journey as a test subject stuck in beta testing. I have already survived the pilot-test (marriage), and with major defects being removed through divorce, I am in a position to experiment under normal, everyday conditions to identify my remaining bugs.

There’s a lot of alcohol involved.

And sometimes a Snuggie.

2. Why did you decide to start blogging?

I’ve always been a writer. When I was little, I’d always write stories on my Papa’s typewriter, and create my own newspapers. In junior high and high school, I wrote in my journal every day (can I hop on the Limited Too Tuesdays bandwagon?) and every month I’d write what we called a “history” for my friends and I that was basically a recap of all of our inside jokes so they were recorded.

Of course, these days we read them and can’t figure out what any of it means.

Scooters at Taco Bell? What? Looks like she turned trick when y’all broke up in 96.

Anyway, I majored in journalism in college, but I went into the practice of public relations, so I was always looking for the right outlet for my writing. I tried blogging a few times before, but I didn’t really stick with it. Then, in early 2012, I completely lost my marbles. I was in the middle of a messy divorce, and I was trying to start my own company. I decided to rent my house out and start on a journey to rebuild my life, from scratch, into something beautiful, rewarding, and fulfilling.

It was terrifying and it was difficult, but I knew the only way I’d be able to make sense of any of it – and find my way back to who I was – was if I blogged about it.

So, Girl in Beta was born.

It was anonymous at first, but, that didn't last long. I still use my pen name, Gibby, though. Mostly for The Google.

3. What are two posts you've written recently you really like and why?

January 24

I love this post because it was about how I forgot the anniversary of my first date with my ex-husband. Anyone who has ended a long-term relationship can relate to how big of a milestone this one really was.

Beta Test: Pole Dancing

I have these spontaneous posts about Beta Tests, which are really just reports on a new experience that I’ve tried. I’ve made a commitment to throw myself into more new things this year, because I tend to have this problem where I can’t tell the difference sometimes between whether fear is holding me back from something, or if it’s my gut because it really knows better. So, the only way to learn the difference between fear and intuition, for me, has been seeking out opportunities that force me to confront that tension, and move past it.

And let’s be honest, there’s nothing more scary than “sensually stretching” in front of your sorority sisters and flinging yourself around a stripper pole.

#YOLO

4. What have you learned from blogging thus far?

I’ve learned, first of all, that people can be really, really, REALLY mean on the internet. If you’re going to be open about your life, you have to learn to be open to the fact that people are going to judge every single thing you do. And I wasn’t prepared for this, and actually stopped blogging for a year because I couldn’t handle it.

But through it all, I learned that the really great things in life can only come to you when you stop caring – when you legitimately give up and surrender. That’s what I did, and I have never been happier.

Blogging gives you the opportunity to create a little community of people who love you for who you are, and I think we all recognize and appreciate that gift.

Of course, it also creates the opportunity for people hate you for who you are too, and, that’s a pretty awesome gift too. There’s equity in the haters, I tell you. And the best way to deal with them is to keep doing what they hate.

5. Where do you see yourself in ten years?

I’d like to be First Lady of the United States, or some massive state, like Texas.

Just kidding. It’s hard to say, because if I’ve learned anything, it’s that where you see yourself in ten years – or even five, or even one – doesn’t really matter. I used to think it was about these big metrics – I want to be a here when I’m 25, and here when I’m 30, and all that did was create unrealistic expectations for myself that constantly had me looking one-step ahead. And I never learned to enjoy the present. So, while it’s good to have goals, I’m still figuring it out. Right now, I’m just enjoying being where I am, and embracing the gratitude I have for today.

Of course, I wouldn’t be disappointed if I was a best-selling author, and also best friends with you, Taylor.

*Comments have been turned off, click here to say hello to Mandi.