Turns Out Everyone Who Works at Target is a Filthy Liar

I say this, because, "battery sold separately" usually implies that you must buy the battery and the object it powers with separate purchases, or at least two distinguishable items within the same purchase. So either the Redshirts lied, were clueless, or were pretty much apathetic about my whole battery situation, because the battery did come with the camera (but in "separate" packaging. Tricky).

I guess based on my own experience in the service industry, your only real option for entertaining yourself is acting at others' or your own expense. Target doesn't provide ample opportunity to toss ice cream into a cup, sing horrific songs, or recreate the 1993 NBA Finals in the checkout line. Whenever we did that at Cold Stone, I was ALWAYS John Paxson. For those of you who don't know the legend of the 1993 NBA Finals, that means I drained the basketball (or Birthday Cake Remix) and stared down whoever was standing next to me (Hopefully not Tobe, who is an ex-con frozen-desserts-server-turned-Marine).

So I guess at Target, the entertainment comes from deluding, beguiling, and confusing customers to the point where they just buy whatever the heck you're pitching them so they don't have to hear your ramblings about megapixels and PMP and return policies. Shooooooo, that's what I did. Threw down a buck fifty (as in $150, not $1.50. That's how much I spent me on two packs of Orbit). You could argue that they cost themselves the opportunity to rip me off even further, by selling me some batteries that I so badly desired. I would have been game for it too, because I had no idea what kind of batteries my techno-trinket took. But I also know that you could sell an Airplane or you could sell an Anteater, and you'd still make the same lousy hourly wage. (No, the airplanes-and-anteaters juxtaposition is, sadly, not an SD original. A professor actually used it. Quirky.)

Anyways, this gizmo is wicked capable. First and foremost, it has an hi-def video recorder. It can take beautiful pictures and voice record as well. In tandem with the memory card I purchased (maybe those Target guys didn't do so bad pushing product after all), I can elicit some combination of 70 minutes of video and 384 snapshots. It can also zoom in and out.


This is the first picture ever taken on this black beauty. Not really anything ritzy, just my dorm setup. I mean I'm not going to go outside on a Friday night in Gangstaville, VA, all by my lonely, with a camcorder. Carmelo Anthony and the Stop Snitchin' campaign would probably frown upon that. So I captured the spot "where the magic happens." If magic happening means sheets not getting washed. Those little red organisms on my sheeting happen to be lobsters in case you were wondering. The Tostitos bag also snuck in to make a cameo appearance in the inaugural photograph.


And congrats to the USF Bulls tonight, for roaring back and knocking off Kansas with a time-expiring, game-winning field goal from their kicker, Frodo Baggins. Seriously, he was like my size.

Contrastingly, South Florida Defensive End/Office Linebacker George Selvie is a complete monster. Though not quite the monster my mom will be this weekend because her alma mater suffered the angush of defeat. I picked a really bad weekend to ask her about taking that Utah trip. Good thing I'm 100 miles away. Good thing she's a muggle and can't Apparate here as well.

There's George (95) and his Lamanite friends!

Come back tomorrow (later today) for NFL predictions. Out.

EDITOR'S NOTE: My mom actually went to Tulsa, not KU. Tulsa just sucks at sports so she pretends like she went to Kansas during football and basketball season.