In an effort to become a more cultured apartment, we’ve asked our new roommates to each write a post that doesn’t relate to sport. We know we’re very limited outside of that niche, but we trust the new guys won’t pull an A-Rod and disappear in the clutch. Shit. This is going to be tougher than we thought.
Today we unleash our newbie, ZekeCorporatePlan. His thoughts on Target, phallic icons and the relation between the two, after the jump.
I like porn.
Actually, I like all forms of sex. Real. Imaginary. Cyber. Phone. With myself. With a partner. With a partner’s partner. It really is all I think about. That is, until recently. Lately, my inner grown up has been trying to tone it down a bit. After all, at some point you have to mature into someone relatively capable of meeting a woman for the first time and not dry humping her leg. So, no more imagining the girl in the next cubicle naked, standing in front of the snack machine, whispering seductively, “E3, big boy?” The saved Limewire searches for girl on horse, a distant memory.
Target, however, doesn’t appear to have received this memo.
In my ultimate quest for a cost efficient life, I decided to give up name brand cereals and opt, instead, for the generic equivalent. Naturally, my first choice was Lucky Charms, because basically, I’m still a 10 year old when it comes to breakfast. But the following morning, when pouring my Marshmallow Treasures, I noticed something. Of course, since Target doesn’t want trouble with General Mills, they’re going to change the name of the cereal and shapes of the marshmallows, but I was a little surprised at their choices.
Yes, Target seems to have narrowed their target audience down to young girls neglected by their fathers and South Beach. A terrific marketing strategy, if you ask me. Personally, I don’t feel the need to be attacked by one-eyed monsters first thing in the morning, but I can see where there was a need for that sort of thing. One can only imagine what lie in store for the unsuspecting consumer, searching thoroughly through the chips and dip isle.
So, thank you, Target. While I struggle to avoid any and everything sexually related, you manage to sneak these little surprises into my daily morning meal. I appreciate that. What’s next? My Fruity Loops shaped like little vaginas? Cocoa Boobies? Nintendo Wiines? Will your sexual conquest of all things wholesome stop at nothing? I’m watching you, Target. I’m on to your shenanigans.
For now, though, I’m gonna go start my morning off right with a bowl of flaccid penis.
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