Imagine you’re a fabulously wealthy A-list celebrity (an Angelina Jolie type, let’s say) who’s been having a bit of a rough go of things lately. You’re in the middle of a messy divorce and the media seems to be taking his side. Your good works have recently come under scrutiny. You call your ex-husband’s former “herbalist.” This provides temporary relief, but leaves you famished. You’re in an introspective mood and look to your children for inspiration. “What should mummy have for a snack?” you ask. Two of your six children both scream in unison, “Hot dogs!!”
What a delight; these extraordinary and magical young souls! “A ‘hot’ ‘dog’ you say? Well, then we shall have it!” is your game reply! But you’re stopped in your tracks. It’s the nanny’s day off. What’s worse, you’ve already sent your personal assistant on the very important errand of collecting every copy of Vanity Fair in the greater Los Angeles Area. What. To. Do.
You reach for the nearest iPhone and search “hot dog where to buy.” A million hits come up and they’re all very confusing. Can a baseball stadium deliver? Then it hits you; a memory deep and profound, submerged under years of probiotic smoothies nutritionally calculated according to your personal DNA profile and extravagant champagne fueled dinners that seemingly went on for hours: A vast warehouse filled with poor people pushing around giant boxes filled with all manner of bargain food and household goods. You ate there once, many moons ago. Winona Ryder took you there and you ate a hot dog! They have hot dogs at that poor people’s store!
Now what was that store called? Cost…Cost Plus? Cost Less? Curses! You reach for the next closest iPhone (closing browser windows is beyond your capacity. Easier to start with a fresh phone) and search “poor people’s store.” In the jumble of results your eye catches something bright and red. Target. It must be french, you think to yourself. You find there is a Target near you. You call to the kids “Children! Children! Mummy is going to take you to the Target store for hot dogs!” And it happened just so for the A-list celebrity and her children.
NEW! Angelina Jolie and her daughters, Shiloh and Vivienne at Target on August 19, 2017 pic.twitter.com/ifCVsmrqz5
— AngelinaJoliePH (@ajolieph) August 20, 2017
Page Six reports:
A Page Six spy at a Target store in Los Angeles says that on Saturday Angelina Jolie took her daughters Shiloh and Vivienne to the cafe inside – but the family was disheartened to find the location did not serve hot dogs. “The kids were disappointed, so they all left,” said our man in aisle five.
Oh, Angie. Sweet, sweet Angie. Had you tried just a little bit harder, dug just a little bit deeper, you might have come to know, as many of us plebeian peasants do, that hot dogs come from Costco, not Target. Also, you need to rethink your disguises. They are not working. Page Six adds:
Added the shopping source at the megamarket’s Eagle Rock location: “One weird thing is that Angie was totally bundled up in a big sweater, and it was probably 85 or 90 degrees out.”
I hope this disappointing outing won’t stifle Angie’s confidence in her explorations into the real world. I’m looking forward to watching as Angie navigates the multitude of daily challenges you and I take for granted. Picture Angie pumping her own gas or wandering the isles of Walgreen’s looking for eye drops. And, lucky for us, Page Six has little birds everywhere!