Krazy is a Perk | Target is no longer my happy place

Krazy is a Perk | Target is no longer my happy place


We all have pet peeves.

I have too many to list (it'd take up my allotted word count), and Thomas knows all of them, and when I'm being a bit too much to deal with (my normal self), he'll choose one to irritate me.

Fine, I'll list a few: No. 3 — not closing the lazy Susan cupboard, No. 2 — listening to people floss their teeth and No. 1 — listening, watching or even thinking about cutting fingernails and toenails.

I can't even express how disgusting I find it.

And some people are downright gross.

Last summer, I was in Target getting all the necessities for a day at the lake, and as I was walking down an aisle, I saw a guy grab a pair of clippers and cut his toenails.

I was horrified. And even more horrified when he put the clippers back in the bin.

"Don't you think you should buy those?" I asked.

"Why? I already used them."

"Because it's disgusting and someone else will buy them with your toenail gunk all over them."

He pointed to his swim trunks, "I don't have pockets. It's summer and I'm wearing sandals, they needed cut and now they are."

"OK, but let's say someone buys those clippers, uses them to kill someone, your DNA is on the clippers, you're arrested and go to jail for life. Huh, what about that?" I countered.

"Lady, you're nuts."

"You have no idea!"

And then I saw him in the deodorant aisle.

"Please tell me you're not going to do what I think you're going to do."

He grabbed some pit goo, lifted his shirt, and spread the gel on his hairy pits.

"I don't think anyone will be killing someone with deodorant," he said, snidely.

"Oh yeah, a ninja could!" I yelled at his retreating back.

At home, I filled Thomas in on my horrific Target experience.

"Target is my happy place, and he tainted it. I don't think I can ever go back."

"Well, that's good for my wallet."

"Don't you understand how gross that is? Don't you care?"

"Not really."

To make the day even more disgusting, someone stacked a pile of clipped nails next to my plate at dinner.

Actually, it was a big pile so I'm thinking it was several someones. What is wrong with them?

That night, I was feeling a bit fragile, but there was no mercy.

While Thomas was brushing his teeth, I set my glass of water on the counter.

"Ugh, I forgot my book downstairs."

My second trip into the bathroom found Thomas setting out his clothes for the next day (He's so sweet. He does it the night before, so he doesn't wake me in the morning.) "Double ugh, I forgot to feed the cats."

On my last trip upstairs, I heard it. Clip. Clip. Clip.

"Oh no he isn't," I thought.

But he was.

I burst into the bathroom.

"Dude, you're cutting your toenails AND in the same room as my glass of water!"


"So? So? So that's nasty! What if a toenail goes flying and lands in my water?"

"It wouldn't. Your glass is on the other end of the counter."

"It absolutely could. They don't just drop right below your foot. They fly all over the place. Can you control a cat? No."

"How did a cat end up in this conversation?" he asked.

"I'm trying to point out that cats are like flying toenails. You can't control them."

"You're nuts."

"You have no idea!"

"Oh, I do," he said, continuing to cut.

I covered my glass with my hand.

"Why is your foot even up on the counter? You should be cutting them over a garbage can."

"Why? You just told me I can't control where they go."

"You know what, someone could lose an eye. Those things are sharp."

"You're kinda getting a little out of control," he said.

"Out of control? I'll tell you out of control! College kids are probably going to make up a new drinking game. No longer will they play beer pong, now they'll play toenail pong and someone will lose an eye."

"As to your earlier point, toenail pong would not be a good game because you can't control where the toenails fly."

I'm not kidding, the next toenail flew across the room and hit the back of my head, which then exploded.


"Good thing you were covering your glass this time."

I paused. "This time? What does that mean?"

He shrugged.

I held my glass up to the light.

"You're so lucky I didn't find a nail."

I grabbed my glass and stomped out of the bathroom ... then stopped. "Thomas?"


"What would you do if you saw a toenail land in my glass?"

He smiled.


"I would take it out."

"And you'd tell me, right?"

"I would take it out."

"You'd let me drink toenail water?"

He smiled.

And that is why I go to therapy.

Krista Vance is a former Champaign resident. While she now calls northern Colorado home, she spent five wonderful years in Champaign and misses great friends, corn and big-sky sunsets.

Sections (1):Living
Topics (2):People, Retail