Aug. 6: This little piggy

There’s been some concern in the local news lately over some guy in the Clackamas Target store who tries to get women to try on shoes for him. Like in a creepy way. Like in a way so creepy that they actually reported him to security, because as he slipped the shoes on their feet he would moan and rub their legs. See? Creepy.

I’m not going to judge someone for having a foot fetish. I think feet are pretty disgusting so to me, a foot fetish is weird, but whatever floats yer boat, dude. However, you start acting out on it with unsuspecting strangers, violating their personal space and who knows what else, well… that, sir, makes you a big freak. And a criminal. And I don’t want you in my Target, okay?

There have also been reports of recent similar foot-related activity in the Medford Target store.

You know who’s been to both of those stores in the past few months? My husband. And because I’m frequently convinced he lives a totally secret life outside of his life with me, I started to suspect him of being the Target guy. I thought it might be helpful to test him, so I began to walk around in bare feet, just to see what he would do. And dammit, I got a lot of slivers. (‘Member, we have all that new barkdust in the yard?) That was sooo not worth it. So then I started to wear shoes everywhere, and I made sure that he noticed them. Sometimes that meant I had to stick my feet in his face, and he did not seem to enjoy that, not even a tiny bit. I would polish my toenails right in front of him and he acted totally unimpressed, almost like he didn’t even notice what I was doing.

There’s really only so much a girl can do with her feet to test a guy before she gets bored. Instead of continuing my scientific investigation, I just decided I was 94 percent sure that Vic wasn’t the Target guy, and I moved on to suspecting him of other weirdness.

Imagine my relief when the really-and-for-true Target guy was arrested in Clackamas County yesterday. And it wasn’t my husband, nor was it anyone I know. Whew.

Now I can get back to trying to figure out who’s using our fountain as a bidet.