10 Signs That Your Child Just Might Be Out of Control at Target

1. The fire in the parking lot.

  As a general rule, large expanses of featureless asphalt don’t usually burst into flames without assistance. In this case, that assistance probably came from Little Tommy, standing there and waving about the cigarette lighter, the same lighter you told him twenty-seven times to put down.

  Here’s a tip. When a child does not put down something when instructed to do so numerous times, further action on your part is required, other than just sighing and accepting the fact that your life is governed by unruly short people. Walk up to Tommy, gently take away the lighter, and then beat his ass. Right there.

  Oh, and the fuel that Tommy used to start the fire? It appears to be your vehicle registration and his least favorite sister. You might want to check into that.

2. The thundering shopping carts of death.

  This is not an amusement park. There are no themed rides or colorful cartoon characters frolicking about and tempting your child with over-priced, high-sugar products. Therefore, your child should be behaving in a location-specific manner. This means he should not treat the shopping carts as his personal joyride to freedom. He should not run really fast and jump on the back of the cart. He should not shove the cart with all his might just to watch it slam into an Escalade and set off the car alarm.

  If the child is small enough, strap him INSIDE the cart using all available restrictive binding devices. If the child is too large for this means of transport, then shoot him in the foot and leave him tied to a tree.

3. The demonic beggars at the concession stand.

  Okay, it IS a bit unfair that management locates those little restaurants right inside the door, forcing you to drag your brood past the enticing aromas of fake melted cheese and hot dogs that have been baking for three days. Your urchins will go into full attention-getting mode, hollering and banging on things to direct your attention to the low-nutrition café, especially the youngsters who have never eaten a decent meal in their entire lives because you’re just so tired all the time.

  Be strong. Promise them an even more enticing buffet of goodies at some vague point in the near future, a commitment that you have no intention of keeping. Tell them that you saw someone spit in the curly fries. Explain to them that the nachos will kill them in a way that is not fun or exciting. As a last ditch effort, scream “Oh my GOD, it’s SpongeBob!” and point at the other end of the store.

4. Brats on the run.

  What is it about large spaces with wide aisles that incites the younger crowd to become invested in reenacting the Olympics Games? All this stampeding from one end of the store to the other, knocking crap over and pole-vaulting through the air. Seriously, where is the fun factor? Why would anyone WANT to do this? It’s just so much work. Yet there they go, cattle on crack.

  But if you try to trip one of them to stop the madness? Well, all the sudden YOU’RE the bad guy, with the knee-skinned angels finally crying real tears and pointing in your direction. It’s not fair.

5. The incessant screaming.

  Unless your child has caught an appendage in a lawnmower, there’s no need for a human voice to hit that decibel level. Yet wildebeest screeching fills the air from open to close in these places

  And the parents? They just stand there, not even feeling the tiniest ounce of shame, which is actually more appalling to me than the howler monkeys. You think it’s OKAY that your child is doing this? Good God, you people are animals. Seriously.

  And you need to die.

6. The condition of the restrooms.

  Do you let your child pee on the floor at home? I didn’t think so. Either you accompany them in here and supervise, or they have to hold it. End of story.

7. The toy department war zone.

  No. I don’t care what the excuses or needs might be, you will NOT take your child to this section of the store. If your child truly is angelic enough to deserve a toy, he is also humble enough to understand that toys are not necessary for survival, and will feel blessed to play with dryer lint or old tires.

8. The rampant snacking.

  Just because they have that one old lady trying to shove free samples of tofu pudding at you, this does not mean that there’s no charge for anything in the food aisles. Your child should not be ripping into boxes, sampling the contents, spitting on the floor with dissatisfaction, and then moving on to the next thing they can get their grubby little hands on. This is not right.

  If your child is THAT hungry, then leave the store and go to McDonald’s. If your child is just being an overindulged ass, then take him to a homeless shelter. They have curbside drop-off these days. Get a receipt for tax purposes.

9. The scavenger hunt in the check-out lanes.

  Yes, it’s boring standing in line, especially if the person in front of you was on some type of mission to buy 300 cans of  cat food, each of them a different brand or flavor so that the gum-chewing attendant has to scan every single thing. But this doesn’t justify the hooligans pawing through the racks of candy and trial-size hygiene items like it’s one giant Christmas stocking. They have to touch everything, occasionally putting it back where they found it but usually throwing it onto the floor so that your cart wheels jam up when you try to roll forward.

  Don’t let these kids do this. Firmly tell them one time to stop it. If they persist, grab the scanning wand out of Bubble Gum’s hand, get your child in a headlock, then zap them in the eyes with the temporarily-blinding red mind-control beam. Hopefully, they will not regain their visions until you have them safely back in the minivan.

10. The wailing banshee on the sidewalk outside the store.

  Those heathens wallering around on the sidewalk, kicking their feet and screaming because Mommy or Daddy didn’t buy them the toy they wanted? This is just lazy parenting. You obviously did something wrong with the child-rearing if your offspring thinks this is acceptable behavior. And it’s probably too late to stop this child from traveling the Sociopath Highway the rest of his life. Jail time is inevitable. You need to make a drastic break in this relationship.

  Quickly walk away, leaving the child there, and possibly glaring at a nearby innocent adult to make your performance believable. (You don’t want any police reports indicating willful abandonment.) Don’t worry about the child. He’ll be fine. He’s obviously used to getting what he wants and will soon be the leader of a street gang.

  Just get in your car. And go.

10 Reasons Why the Texas Heat Can Lead to a Psychotic Break

1. The inability to think.

  It’s hard to concentrate when your eyeballs are sizzling in your skull. When you’re sitting there in the car, trying not to move because merely blinking your eyes can cause you to break out into a sweat, even with the AC on super max, you don’t need mental distractions. Don’t ask me where I want to eat lunch. I’m not the tiniest bit interested in that. I’m focused on trying to breathe.

  And don’t get all cranky, just because you think I don’t care about anything you might have to say right now. I am not ignoring you. I am choosing to have priorities, and you just don’t happen to be one of them right now. When it cools off, or the sun finally explodes, I will be more than happy to have a discussion. Until then, don’t jeopardize your life by asking if the new paint for the guest bedroom should be Tuscan Potato or Zanzibar Sunset.

2. Touching anything metal while outside leads to a flesh wound.

  There’s nothing quite like the immobilizing pain you can experience by strolling out onto the veranda of the latest hip bistro, and then lowering yourself into one of the expensive, trendy deck chairs. That smell in the air? It’s not the soup of the day. It’s the charred skin peeling off your body. Be sure to order an extra margarita, because when you eventually stand back up, part of you won’t. And it will hurt.

  And good luck getting into your car and driving home. First, you’ve got to find the vehicle in the parking lot. This is tricky enough in Dallas, where everyone buys the same kind of car, and you end up with 47 yellow Hummers lined up like you just wandered into a car dealership. Now add in the cooking asphalt, which is sending up those weird waves of shimmery gases that distort your vision. Now you can’t see squat, feeling like you’re trapped in a Federico Fellini movie, where voices fade in and out while bizarre things happen to clowns.

  Once you finally locate your car, do not touch the exterior of the vehicle without wearing protective gloves. Otherwise, your hand will liquefy, making the operation of the vehicle a little more difficult. When you finally manage to get the door open, do not immediately jump inside or you will instantly vaporize. Let some of the demon heat escape. If possible, pay small children to climb in first and report back when the atmosphere has stabilized.

  When you receive access clearance, the first thing you need to do is turn the AC all the way up. Yes, this means there will be a few minutes of a blast furnace burning all your hair off, but it’s just the price you have to pay. You’ve got to get that puppy working full strength or you are going to die. Once your nose hairs stop popping and crackling, put that thing in drive and get the hell out of there.

3. The miserable air pollution gets even worse.

  It’s already an established fact that the air quality in the DFW area is full of major suckage. Thousands of semi’s lumbering around, hauling cargo to all the Wal-Marts, so we can rush in and buy pointless things that we don’t really need. And of course, it’s a state law that everyone must drive huge 2-ton pick-up trucks or SUV’s. (Anybody caught driving one of those pansy Mini-Coopers will immediately be shot, or at least not invited to the best parties.) Poisonous fumes fill the sky.

  So when you add in the triple-digit heat, the simple act of walking out your front door becomes an ill-considered act of self-mutilation. Within two steps, the gelid air has coated your skin, making everything slimy and unsatisfying. Now you understand what Karen Silkwood felt like, poor thing. Get done what needs to get done, then get your ass back in the house. Shower for at least 30 minutes.

4. The air conditioner never shuts off. Ever.

  There’s that incessant drone that never goes away. No matter where you are in the house or what you are doing, you can hear the unit churning away, trying desperately to feebly pump slightly-cool air through the structure. Turn on every fan you have and pray for nightfall.

  And try not to think about the electric bill. Any time something runs for that length of time, day after day, there’s going to be a financial impact. There’s not much you can do about it, so try to focus on other things. Like which of your relatives has been the least worthwhile in your life, and therefore could be sold for some ready cash.

5. Those dumb-ass misters on restaurant patios.

  These things are only acceptable when you’re drunk, and therefore don’t care or don’t even notice that you are being continually spritzed. When you’re sober, they are completely annoying. It’s hard to have an important, gossip-filled conversation when you are constantly having to rinse and spit. And moisture on your food? Really, other than a certain kinky subset of the population, who wants their buns wet?

6. Rude people actually ratchet up their skills.

  Obnoxious people already have self-control issues. Apparently, in their twisted world, an increase in temperature corresponds to an increase in their ability to offend the population in general. We’re all already suffering, folks, there’s no need for the attitude and the aggressive actions that just make us hate you more.

  This is where our elected representatives should pass legislation. I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to walk up to a police officer and say “That person over there? The one with the iPhone he won’t stop screwing around with, and the annoying haircut that’s supposed to look tousled but really took three hours at the salon? He just cut in line, AND he flipped off a nun while she was feeding the poor.” At which point the officer will immediately handcuff Perez and haul him away to some place where it’s dark and people cry.

7. Strangers ask stupid questions.

  “Is it hot enough for me?” Actually, no. I’d like it to be hotter. And how am I going to accomplish that? By setting your ass on fire if you dare to ask something idiotic like that again. Go the hell away. And get a vasectomy while you’re at it.

8. Women who insist on wearing three inches of makeup when it’s 112 degrees.

  Do you not understand that this makes you look like Madame Tussaud’s has an inventory shortage? Seriously, honey, step away from the Bisquick. I now know what happened to Baby Jane.

9. Moist loins.

  And not the good kind. There is just something fundamentally dehumanizing about walking around the town square with wet underwear. I don’t care if Pottery Barn just got a new shipment of scented futons. I’m really not invested in the updated menu at Red Lobster, despite the allure of the cheese biscuits. And I think I’ll live if we don’t get to see Cleopatra’s bidet at the DMA.

  I just want to go somewhere that I can pull this SpongeBob wedgie out of my crack and remember what it was like to be dry and not make squishing sounds when I walk. That’s all I ask.

10. Beer does not stay cold.

  And this, ladies and gentlemen, trumps all. There is no surer sign of the Apocalypse than lukewarm beer. Get out while you still can…