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I had two blog worthy experiences today.

1.  I rediscovered target in all it’s glory

2.  I risked hepatitis to have a drink with my friends and saw the sad sad state of several single (and looking) females on a week night.

Lets take the less shocking and work our way into the other shall we? Target, where have you been all my life?

For all the years I’ve lived here in Oz, I’ve never been a fan of the Australian version of Target.  Missing the clean bright white and red organised aisles from home, full of well stocked semi-quality, I wish I were a designer items and the incredible amounts of things you didn’t know you wanted but now just have to have I was disenchanted to discover this was simply not how Target here in Australia works.  Instead it’s quite … different.  Today however I lowered my standards (read: It was a lot worse in my head than in reality) and ventured inside.  I was in awe, here, in the basement level of the Meyer centre, with the bus platforms just a few steps away was an oasis of low-cost wonders.  I wandered the aisles pulled in by the rather trendy looking jewelry, the sale price on some surprisingly nice lotion and then I came to the shoes.  Oh yes the shoes.  Row after too narrow row they were, hanging, sitting, strutting, slouching, all on display for my pleasure with at least 1 aisle totally dedicated to Ballet Flats – divine!  I sauntered through looking at the moderately priced, not-so-sensible heels and came by a bargain I just couldn’t go past.   Glittering with silver sequins I simply had to look.  $40? $30? NO, it couldn’t possibly be, but yes, $6.00!! So i bought them.  I simply couldn’t resist.  And then I promptly popped them on while waiting for some of my friends from class to meet me for an end of year drink, they chose the venue.  WHICH BRINGS ME TO:

Fat Louie’s.

The name really says it all.  No seriously, just think about it.  See, I don’t even really need to tell this story do I? Yes, we went to Fat Louie’s.  I’ll admit that I got there before my friends and went in the door that looked like it could lead to a strip club and marched up the worn carpet and stall smelling stairs to the unsigned, un doored even….. hole.  And then I turned around and marched myself right back down.  Nope, not for me, I am not going to drink or touch anything there.

Finally friends arrived after not too long and I was persuaded to join them for a beverage.  I bought a bottle of water, my sparkly new target shoes gleaming brighter than anything there and gingerly sat on the cleanest most well-lit couch I could find.  While they got their drinks though, I was people watching, when I saw three girls a bit younger than me, dressed to the nines and clearly on the prowl. … at Fat Louie’s…. enough said.

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