You Could Not Pay Me To Shop On Black Friday

If it’s one thing I will never understand it’s Black Friday. I like to shop. I like to save money. But I don’t care for getting the sh!t beat out of me in the process. But that’s just me.

I prefer to lay in bed and turn on the news and see people killing each other over a half price television. And I am NEVER disappointed. EVER.

I used to try to have all of my shopping completed by Thanksgiving. It’s just how I rolled. But now I have major anxiety issues about Christmas since having kids. I totally freak out. There is just so much to do and so little time.

Nothing makes my heart melt like seeing my kids being excited about Christmas. They sit down and write their lists. And then I email them to Santa. Because I’m too lazy to go to the mailbox.

Thankfully, there isn’t anything they are asking for that I am unable to obtain this year. But I’m sure I would go to great lengths to get them anything they really wanted. Except go out and wait in line in the freezing cold for hours after finishing Thanksgiving dinner. To save a buck.


When I was a kid the Cabbage Patch Doll was all the rage. And I got one. Gayla Loretta. And she looked just like me. Except she had pretty long hair and didn’t look like a little girl man. I wonder where she is now.

My dad was a policeman. I remember him telling me (years later) that they got a tip that a shipment of dolls was coming in at some dock. My dad, and all of his friends with little girls, all went there and got first dibs. Sounds totally legit. But this was the 80’s.

I will never forget that Christmas morning. It was so exciting. I didn’t really think I was going to get one. My parents must have prepared me just in case. Kind of like I’m doing to my six year-old who is only asking for an iPhone and a pony this year.

So I guess if Black Friday was about getting that one gift my kid has their heart set on, I might be on board. But it never is. It’s always grown ass people fighting over some electronic. I just don’t get it.

I have so many questions for these people.

Number one. Don’t you drink on Thanksgiving? I get so overrun with emotion of all that I have in my life that I’m thankful for that I tend to over-indulge. I thought everyone did.

Number two. Don’t your kids miss you when you’re not around on Thanksgiving? How exactly do you explain to them that you will be sleeping in a tent outside of Best Buy instead of tucking them in that night?

Full disclosure: my kids are normally the ones tucking me in on Thanksgiving night. But tradition is tradition.

And number three. Why? Just why? Why go to a store ever? We have Amazon. Why would you ever get your ass off the couch? Ever?

I took three kids to Target the other day. And I’m still not right. I have some major PTSD. And not because of all of the trans people they allow to use their bathrooms.

My kids tore that place apart. They tore me apart. I was sweating so much. Especially in the shoe section.

The one kid wore high-tops. And tried on no less than 30 pairs of shoes. And every time I wasn’t looking he was re-lacing the high-tops and I’d have to take them off all over again.

He also kept insisting he was a size 2, because that’s the size his brother wears, when in fact he’s a size 12. So every shoe he liked we’d try on a size 2, Then a size 1, then his actual size.

And every 30 seconds I had to scream the name of the other kid. She kept wandering off as I was trying to adjust my pants to alleviate my swass situation. So I’d yell her name to make sure she wasn’t kidnapped. Just like my mom would do.

So the idea of waiting in line in the cold to go shopping doesn’t appeal to me. Fighting with other grown ass humans doesn’t appeal to me. And if I’m going to be completely honest, the thought of putting on pants on a day I don’t have to go to work realllllly doesn’t appeal to me.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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