Admit it – We’ve All Wanted to Escape From Our Family on Thanksgiving

Andthg_37 now for something to make me really unpopular . . . I’m going to confess that I don’t get what all the fuss is about regarding having to work on Thanksgiving. Right now, all of my social media newsfeeds are flush with what I’m going to call the “No Work Thanksgiving” movement.

Based on the fervent “likes”, “shares,” and “retweets” one would think working on Thanksgiving is a major societal problem of the 21st century. The thing that really makes me laugh is the sanctimonious chatter about how working on Thanksgiving is “robbing people of family time.” Yeah, I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. And in the spirit of full disclosure I’ve worked many Thanksgivings and LOVED it! Like skipping out of the house, loving it. (I also loved the money because I really needed the money.)

Before you think I’m anti family (or anti my family) let’s examine the holiday. It’s not even a religious occasion. I would understand this level of outrage if, indeed, it was a holy day. But it’s a Federal holiday that came about in 1863, when, President Lincoln declared the fourth Thursday in the month of November as a national day of “Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.” Okay, I will now concede that sounds religious, but really, how many people go to church on Thanksgiving?

And if you’re going to be angry about a holiday that’s gone full retail where’s the Fourth of July fury? That’s a huge day in American history, but no one cares that Victoria’s Secret dares to cheapen the birthday of this great country of ours with a “Let Freedom Ring” three thongs and a cheekster for $13 sale.

It’s also a day that requires hours of hard culinary labor. Anyone who says they don’t believe people should have to work on Thanksgiving must never have hosted the holiday at their home. Sure, the reward of toiling in the kitchen is grand and glorious. You, for doing all the pre meal prep, cooking and cleaning, get the thank you gift of gazing upon the wonder that is your Uncle T.J. stuffing his face at the speed of light so he resume his prone position on the couch to watch football.

As for the whole “robbing people of family time” argument let’s be honest here. Most of us don’t have fairy tale families where our Thanksgiving is 24-hour extended kin group hug. For a lot of us, a whole day consumed with a cornucopia of relatives, in a confined space, with no chance of escape, is akin to tip toeing barefoot through the hot coals of hell. Add in second cousins, who have been drinking alcohol since 10 a.m. and you have me volunteering to work every holiday. In fact, many times as I have been bolting for the door to get to work my husband has begged, “Please, please, take me with you.”

The “No Work Thanksgiving” moment doesn’t just focus its ire on the merchants that chose to be open on Turkey Day there’s also a heaping helping of disgust for folks who dare to shop on mashed potatoes with gravy Thursday. Lots of time is spent on social media dissing people camped outside a Best Buy to get a “bitching deal” on a TV that’s bigger than most people’s first homes.

Here’s my take on that. If you have a family member (or members) that has chosen standing outside a Best Buy instead of gracing your table for Thanksgiving you should be rejoicing, like Hallelujah chorus rejoicing, because you’ve been saved for spending an entire day with this level of nitwit. In fact, I would go so far as saying you need to write a thank you note to Best Buy for their awesome system of herding and corralling humans that don’t need to be free ranging it on Thanksgiving. It’s like having a babysitter for the ickier part of your family tree.

(Now, just to be fair, I must also defend the Best Buy campers. I’ve been told by some that they have a “great time waiting in line” and that it “beats the hell out of spending the day with family.”)

As for the folks that hit the malls and Target Thanksgiving evening all I have to say is you go girls (and men being forced against their will to Kohl’s for their fleece sale). Two years ago, I interviewed a group of woman, four sisters-in-laws, who were having a blast Target on Thanksgiving night. They didn’t really care about the shopping. For them it was all about taking a break from a surly mother-in-law and husbands who needed to up their game on the kid watching duty. Technically, they were family members spending time together. They just weren’t doing it at a table while passing Great Grandma Eunice’s sweet potato, cornflake, and marshmallow fluff casserole.

**For more Snarky check out my book  Snarky in the Suburbs Back to School. 

Here’s a little ditty about it: The Spring Creek Elementary School PTA board (a coven of Mean Moms dressed in Uggs, yoga pants, and dermal filler) is up to no good.  Wynn Butler (middle-aged, uncool, and not bringing sexy back) is determined to find out what’s going on. With help from her two kids, a Roomba vacuum turned mobile surveillance drone, and a few good friends, Wynn launches a covert investigation that leads to the “mother of all revenge capers” at the school’s annual Fall Festival.  If you’ve ever fantasized about smoke bombing the idiot parent who has yet to master the fine art of the school drop-off lane, or standing up and shouting, “Liar, liar, Botox on fire” during a PTA meeting, then this delicious tale of payback is for you. 

To stay up-to-date on new posts and take part in my not so deep thoughts click on this Facebook link – http://is.gd/iEgnJ (That’s the abbreviated link to my FB page) or I twitter @snarkynsuburbs.

Black Friday – The End Is Near

black-friday-meme-20If there was one thing to get me shopping on Black Friday it would be Kohl’s cash. At my previous destinations it was all about the people watching. At Kohl’s I was ready to consummate my relationship with Black Friday. How could I resist with the Kohl’s spend $50 get $15 dollars back they were literally paying me to shop. Talk about retail foreplay? For that kind of cash action I’d let Kohl’s round all the bases and slide into home. Plus, I had a 15% off coupon. It was like a menage a trois. Me, Kohl’s cash and the coupon.

Just thinking about what awaited me I walked into the store all worked up and then had a major case of coitus interruptus. It was jammed packed. Not packed with people shopping, but packed with people waiting in line to pay for their purchases. I kid you not, the lines to pay for your robes, blouses and socks wound through the store twice like a double helix.  Kohl’s even had signs up, like they have at theme parks, that said, “Congratulations you are only 60 minutes from the check out stand.” The only way to get a fast pass was to open a Kohl’s charge card.  Sure, I wanted to shop, but it was almost 2 a.m. and I didn’t want to have to stand in line till the sun came up. Since I was there I decided to circulate through the store and see what discounts Kohl’s was offering that would justify standing in line for hours and bringing your own stadium seating chair.

I had made it half way through the store when I saw two precious little girls sleeping on top of a “bed” decked out in Vera Wang sheets in the linen department.  The girls who looked to be about two and four were in cuddly p.j’s and pink slippers. I inquired in a curious voice, “Whose adorable little girls are these?”

One grandma-ish woman piped up, “I don’t know.  I haven’t seen anyone check on them and I’ve been standing in this area for about 20 minutes.”  I asked the woman to stand guard over them and she said, “Honey my eyes haven’t left these angels.”

I asked another woman to please go to customer service and get some help. She was a little hesitant, but the person in front of her in line promised to save her place.  I then started working my way up the line asking people if they know who the two little girls belonged to that were sleeping in the linens department.

Finally, a woman said they were her granddaughters. “Are you kidding me?” I asked, “Your letting your grandbabies sleep at Kohl’s while you stand in this stupid line? You do realize your about half a store away from them and anybody could just take them and poof they’re gone.”

She didn’t even try to defend her actions. She just said, “Well, you’ll have to talk my daughter about it. She put them there and then told me to hold a place in line while she shopped.” I almost felt sorry for her. She sounded like she was afraid of her own daughter.

“Good God woman,” I said, “Go get your grandchildren and what does your daughter look like I’m going to find her?”

The woman described her daughter as wearing a baseball hat, jeans and (wait for it, wait for it) a hot pink bedazzled hoodie that says, “This Mom of Two Rocks.” Armed with that description the woman was easy to find in the jewelry department. Which as any Kohl’s shopper knows is near the front of the store and about as far away as you can get from where she left her sleeping daughters. I adjusted my fanny pack and said in my most authoritative voice, “Excuse me, but are you the woman who abandoned two little girls one of the beds in the linen department?”

She didn’t even take her eyes off the ring she was trying on and sighed, “Did they wake up or something?”

That really got me peeved so I went to my old stand by – lying about my occupation and threatening people with some sort of legal action. “No!” But I’m affiliated with Children’s Protective Services and unless you take your kids home right now I will forced to take then into custody.”

She finally looked up at me and said, “Don’t you think you’re over reacting?  What’s that thing people say.  Oh yeah, It takes a village.”

“Well, in this case it take one social service agency employee and I’m going to give you about 3 minutes to get your precious girls, your mother and yourself out of the store.”

She sighed again and seemed very put out and said, “Whatever.” Then she asked, “What if I have my mom stand by them as they sleep can I stay then?”

It was at this point I realized I was out of my element it was time to turn it over to a higher power – Kohl’s security. They assured me they had the situation in hand. Before I walked away, I couldn’t help myself, I had to ask this blinged out “Mom of Two,” Why didn’t you just leave your kids at home with your mother? Wouldn’t that have been easier than dragging your babies out at 2 a.m.?”

She looked at me like I was the biggest loser on the planet and said, “But then who would hold my place in the check out line?” I just shook my head in disgust and left the store. I was growing weary of this thing called Black Friday and promised myself after checking out Old Navy I would head home.

Why Old Navy you ask? I was drawn to the store because it seemed to be the place to be if you were female and under the age of 30 plus it was right next door. The store looked like it had been attacked my a flash mob. Jeans were strewn about, hoodies were laying on the floor and women were in various stages of undress. Not willing to wait for a dressing room (the line did look brutal) women were shedding their clothes in public. I found this a little unseemly. First,  why would you need to try on clothes?  You’re Christmas shopping right? Not buying $15.99 denim for yourself.  Then there’s the naked part. I know if I were at any swimming pool I would, no doubt, see the same amount of skin. But people in their underwear, in public, as they attempt to shimmy into skinny jeans is, I daresay, a little different. It also brings up the thong issue.

What’s so wrong with a full coverage panty?  You’re out shopping in the middle of night while wearing sweats and you feel your outfit calls for a thong. Ladies, there is no visible panty line when were wrapped in a pair of baggy sweats. Embrace, at the very least, a bikini cut panty. In addition, if you must wear a itsy bitsy thong and feel the need to take your pants off in public please make sure your nether regions don’t resemble Chewbacca on a Rogaine Plus regime.

I was averting my eyes as much as possible when out of my peripheral vision I saw what looked to be a large woman totally nude from the waist down. I thought, that can’t be right. So, I rubbed my eyes and looked again.  Yep, she seemed to be going fancy free in the women’s sportswear section of Old Navy. Isn’t there some sort of health code that prohibits trying on clothes butt naked?

As I ponder that point, I noticed what looked to be a small piece of nylon peeking out from south of her belly button.  It looked like the tip of a ski trapped in an avalanche of flab. Oh my, this young woman had her fat rolls disguising her thong thus giving her the appearance of being naked. I wanted to go over to her and proselytize the superior hygiene and comfort qualities of a real, honest to goodness, panty. Some call them Granny panties, but I call them underwear that won’t become bff’s with your butt crack. I took all this nudity as the final sign that I needed to go home and cleanse my corneas with some sleep.

Five hours later my phone rings. It’s my mother. From 1,000 miles away she asks me to do the unthinkable. She wants me to go the mall. It gets worse. She wants me to go the American Girl doll store. I tell her she’s crazy and I’m not doing it. “Why can’t you just order all the doll stuff on-line? I ask. Well, that a big “no can do” from her. She wants two dolls and according to her the money she would save from not paying for shipping and handling would allow her to also get some “really adorable accessories” to go with the dolls. Plus, there’s some “incredible” today only bargains. She also points out that one of the dolls is for my daughter and thus begins the never-ending guilt merry go round.  I swear under my breath and tell her I’ll go. Bad move.

The mall is almost Walmart crowded and so over heated it feels like it’s doing double duty as a tanning bed. When I reach the American Girl store it’s chocked full of high maintenance moms who smell like they were assaulted by the Sephora perfume bomb.  Don’t get me wrong, I like Sephora, but you can’t go in there without a safe word. Once you cross the threshold of the store you’re besieged by women spritzing perfume and sales associates wanting to give you a make-over that always ends with you slathered in a quantity of cosmetics that would put a drag queen to shame. Although, they tell you, “Oh no, that’s not a lot of make-up.  It’s just an evening look.” Yes, an evening out working the corner.

After I surrendered my sense of smell I adhere to my game plan of grabbing the new Marie Grace and Cecile dolls and ski set and ice skates accessories.  Why the hell my mom wanted to pair up dolls based on girls that live in 1853 New Orleans with down hill skis and ice skates confused me so much I had to call her to verify the purchase. I wanted to make sure I got just want she wanted because there was no way I was coming back here and doing a return. I moved to one of the corners of the store to call my mom which unbeknownst to me would be a front row seat to Battle of the Doll Beds.

As I get off the phone with my mother (yes she wanted those doll size skis and skates) I noticed two women each grabbing for the what I’m guessing was the last “Dreamy Daybed and Bedding” box. Both women looked to be what I call Classic Cul-de-Sacers. They had the blonde highlighted hair, skinny to point of being butt-less with their bead and stitch True Religion jeans and some sort of long sleeve bejeweled burn out t-shirt. The only distinguishing characteristics between the two were one had on cowboy boots and the other Uggs.

Uggsy made the first move by trying to pull her side of the box away from Cowboy.  Cowboy did the arm over-arm for a double handed tug. This gave her some more box real estate. Uggsy panicked and did a tug and twist, trying to wrench the box from Cowboy’s grip. Cowboy dug in her heels and yanked on the box so hard she managed to get Uggsy off-balance. Now Uggsy was super ticked. She kicked Cowboy in the shins. This was a tactical error. Everyone knows in an Uggs vs Cowboy boot throw down cowboy boots win.  They’re pointy and have heels. Uggs just have ugly on their side. But Uggsy wasn’t going to give up just yet. She went for Cowboy’s rhinestone belt and tugged hard. This almost toppled over Cowboy. Finally, Cowboy knelt the death-blow and took her pointy boots and just wailed on Uggsy’s shins. Uggsy screamed and dropped her grip on the box enabling Cowboy to establish full control of the package and sashay up to the check out.

I was stunned by this mom-on-mom action. I followed Cowboy up the check out area and decided the best course of action was to not make any sudden moves or eye contact with this chick. Then the unbelievable happened. Cowboy looked at the box, stood there a moment and then put the bed set on the nearest shelf and walked out of the store.  I thought perhaps, upon reflection, she was ashamed of herself and left the store in personal disgrace. I was so intrigued that I picked up the box she had left behind.  Holy crap, it was empty.  Two moms had been fighting over an empty box. Nothing could have been more symbolic of my Black Friday experience.

You know what’s a freaking good deal? My Snarky book series. If you haven’t experienced a Snarky book yet may cover_1-3-21I gently suggest you give it a try like right now. Yes, my friend just click on one of the links and presto you can get yourself some Snarky for only, wait for it, wait for it, 99 cents!  You can buy it for your Kindle or in paperback on Amazon.  It’s also available for the Nook or you can get it for your Kobo reader. Click on a link and give it a test read. 🙂

 

 

Black Friday – Part 3

Black FridayI was like Dorothy in the Wizard of the Oz, but instead of chanting “There’s no place like home,” I was chanting, “There’s no place like Target.” I knew my favorite retailer wouldn’t let me down and would be just the thing to erase my Walmart memories.

Before I headed to my beloved Target I first had to grab a Diet Coke. At almost midnight I was in desperate need of caffeine. The McDonald’s drive-thru line was insane so I opted to run inside and order. As soon as I opened the double door to Mickey D’s I was assaulted by the sight of a family of six eating McRibs. Who in the hell eats a McRib on Thanksgiving at almost midnight? Before I could McGag I started breathing only through my nose, quickly paid for my drink with exact change, and bolted out of there.

I had recovered my sense of smell by the time I reached Target. I parked by a mini-van with all of it’s doors open and Pink’s “Raise Your Glass” song “blasting from a stereo. Four women, all looking to be in their 30’s, were standing outside the van singing and dancing. This was something I had to investigate. I reapplied my Bath and Bodywork’s all in one lip gloss and breath freshener, hopped out of my car and over the music yelled, “You seem to be having a lot of fun!”

They laughed and one of the woman shouted, “We are!”

I yelled back, “Are you super excited about Black Friday, drunk, or all of the above!” They a laughed again and then another woman said they were sister-in-laws “celebrating their freedom from their mother-in-law.” They all live out-of-town and every Thanksgiving holiday are forced to make the trek to experience the in-laws. They use Black Friday shopping as an excuse to escape their MIL who from their description sounded like Mrs. Darth Vadar on her period.

“It’s perfect,” said what looked to the sister-in-law ring leader. “We get to escape her house. Our husbands have to deal with the kids and we make sure not to show up again till after breakfast. That lets us use the excuse that we’re exhausted and can’t function unless we get some sleep. Which all means less time spent with our mother-in-law.”

This is when I had my epiphany.  Black Friday isn’t about shopping and scoring major savings on electronics it’s about avoiding family members and familial responsibilities. If you’re camped out in line at Best Buy for 16 hours that means you’re off the hook to cook and host Thanksgiving dinner. It’s genius! Retailers have given us a socially acceptable way to abandon family traditions and family. I was really ashamed of myself for not getting behind this Black Friday thing sooner. I have no doubt if stores opened at noon on Christmas Day people eager to flee their kin folks and all the other assorted holiday chores like cooking and cleaning would be enthusiastically standing in line waiting for the doors to open. I wished the foursome of sister-in-laws “Happy Shopping” or “Happy No Mother-In-Law-ing” and proceeded to the entrance of Targets.

I had to wait in line for a couple of minutes and upon being granted entry was told that “In order to better serve their customers Target had placed shopping carts throughout the store.” I quickly found out that was code for: “We have no shopping carts left. Get over it or steal someone’s while they’re engrossed looking at the 2 for 1 crock-pot display.”

Due to my Walmart experience I stayed clear of the electronic sections and veered over to home furnishings. Good God, what a mistake.  There were bins of fleece blankets marked down from $39.99 to $19.99. You would have thought these women were trying to rescue a baby from a well. Some of them were bent over so far into the bin all you saw was a pair of ankles. It was a fleece frenzy.  I tried to move in closer to see what the fuss was about. Where these blankets spun by angels from the puffiest, chunkiest, coziest, cumulus clouds making their softness the stuff of legend? Before I got a chance to feel up the blanket someone yanked my ponytail so hard I experienced, what I’m sure was, first degree whiplash.

I turned around and saw a woman already clutching three blankets. I said to her in an astonished voice, “Did you just grab my ponytail?”

With not even the slightest guilty look on her face pony tail yanker said, “Yeah, you cut in front of me and I need another navy blanket. You’re in my way.”

Wow, I’m thinking not even “I’m sorry” or a lame lie like,” I thought you were my sister.” What a loser. I had no choice, but to give her the beefy side arm move with a full cankle extension that enabled me to grab the last navy blanket. I’ll be damned if someone yanks my ponytail and doesn’t suffer any repercussions. Besides the pain she inflicted my hair was now all messed up. I had gone from a pert ponytail to some awful hunk of hair hanging at half mast.

My blanket “grab and go” really set her off. She entered the “beyond pissed” zone and launched herself straight to Mentally Unhinged – the movie, a  3-D, IMAXX experience. Blanket Crazy began stalking me through Target. Heckling me to give her the blanket back. Really, who gets this worked up over $19.99 fleece? Her whole attitude made me so nervous I accidentally (on purpose) spilled some of my Diet Coke on the blanket. What else could I do but head straight to the customer service desk where I told the clerk , “Oh my God, can you believe it I saw someone urinate on this blanket. It needs to be disposed of immediately.”

The clerk, using two Target bags as make-shift sanitary hand protectors, picked up the blanket and tossed into some random pile of refuse. I muttered under my breath, “Bye, bye blanket. Bye, bye” and turned around and winked at the Blanket chick. Super bad move. Her fury at being denied navy fleece escalated to such an extent that I began to worry for my personal safety. I could see her trying to smother me with the fleece she already had leaving me for dead in the laundry aisle. I had no choice but to abandon Target and run for my life all the while looking over my shoulder to make sure Blanket Crazy wasn’t in hot pursuit. Which wasn’t that easy. One, I don’t enjoy running so fast my boobs turn into floppy battering rams and two my neck was still aching from the ponytail assault. Fortunately I made it to my car unscathed. With two shaky hands on the steering wheel I hauled ass to Kohl’s.

You want a Black Friday deal? Well then check out my Snarky book series. If you haven’t experienced a Snarky book yet may cover_1-3-21I gently suggest you give it a try like right now. Yes, my friend just click on one of the links and presto you can get yourself some Snarky for only, wait for it, wait for it, 99 cents!  You can buy it for your Kindle or in paperback on Amazon.  It’s also available for the Nook or you can get it for your Kobo reader. Click on a link and give it a test read. 🙂

 

 

Black Friday Part 1

Screen Shot 2013-11-29 at 10.01.57 AMIt was time to lose my Black Friday virginity. I had heard about this mega shopping day for years, but had always been saving myself for Cyber Monday. Like any big milestone in your life this one required a fetching outfit. I was torn between going “cute and comfortable” or “battlefield ready.” After much research battlefield ready won out. I put on the new pair of Target track pants I had just treated myself to, a long sleeve Nike outlet top, my “dress” tennis shoes and  yanked my hair back into a no-nonsense pony tail.

The piece de la resistance of this ensemble was a fanny pack.  What’s that you say – a freaking fanny pack? Well, to be specific it was more of a tummy pack since I wore it facing forward and before you go all Fashion Police on me please note that my diligent research pointed out that I could get trampled, assaulted and/or robbed. I figured my battlefield ready outfit needed to be hands free. I didn’t want to worry about a purse sliding off my shoulder or worse a deranged shopper, hopped up on their 10th Starbucks full caf – mocha something or other, strangling me with my handbag straps. Besides, I’m a confident, middle-aged woman who knows how to work a fanny pack. Some would call it a skill. I call it a gift.

After getting dressed I did a few deep knee bends and practiced some self-defense moves I learned 3 years ago. I thought the eye gouge would be especially useful if I found myself in the crossfire of an X Box rampage. After that I reviewed my itinerary which wasn’t picked for the best deals, but to maximize my people watching. I wasn’t going to shop. I was going for a freak show and if I was sacrificing my much-needed beauty sleep and rejuvenating overnight triple Retina-A facial cream with miracle beads then by God this adventure better deliver freaks and them some.

Thanks to input from friends I left my house at 8 p.m. Thanksgiving night and headed for Best Buy. My goal was to check out the line and chat up a few of the folks that abandoned turkey and mashed potatoes for the privilege of being one of the first to walk into the hallowed electronic halls of Best Buy. This is where I learned a very valuable lesson. Approach the front of any Black Friday line with extreme caution. The people who have been camped out in line for more than 24 hours are suffering from some sort of battle fatigue psychotic paranoia. When they see you walking towards them they immediately think you are trying to cut in line and they can and will harm you.

I just wanted to ask these discount die hards a few questions but as I got closer to them they started shouting, “Go to the back of the line!” or my favorite, “Get your F’ing ass to the F’ing back of the F’ing line.” At first I was scared and then I thought I was probably safe from any kind of beat down because no one would dare give up their place in line to punch me out. I stayed about four arms length away and yelled back, “I’m not here to shop. I’m a reporter doing a story on Black Friday. I write for the “I Saved More Money Than You!” website.  That calmed them down and they let me approach their clan of extreme bargain hunters. I walked up very slowly, like I was trying to pet a feral cat, to make sure everyone was okay with me getting near the front. One shopper asked for press I.D.  I quickly said, “I wish.  You think a website called “I Saved More Money Than You” is going to waste money on business cards.  Yeah, that’s a great big no.”  My response seemed to placate them and before they started googling my made up website I quickly began asking questions.

The first four people in line were all related. The Best Buy camp out was a family tradition. This year it was all about the TV bigger than your garage door. These fine folks in an attempt to save in the mid 3 figures on a T.V. were making the ultimate sacrifice in my book.  No, I’m not talking about missing out on a holiday dedicated to eating with unbridled passion, but using a 44 ounce Quick Trip cup as their bathroom. I got to witness this first hand. A 20 something woman in the clan relieved herself in my presence. Her aunt held up a blanket to give her some urinary privacy. Right about now  I’m thinking the cold may have affected the older woman’s spatial reasoning skills because the blanket was positioned in a way that only provided butt coverage. Huh? This chick was going number 1 not 2. I got an unobstructed view of the woman peeing and it was something to behold. That’s right – I watched. I couldn’t look away because this young woman was muy talented. If peeing in a cup was an artistic form of expression than she was Picasso. She barely lowered her pants yet managed to shove a 44 ounce cup into her tinkle zone and without assuming even the tiniest squat position she filled that cup with a fluid grace. She also was able to remove said cup without any discernible sign of spatter. Talk about precision peeing with zero splash zone. I was impressed and asked, “How did you learn to do that, so well?”

She said, “Lots of practice. You should have seen me at the I Phone 4S camp out.  I crapped in a cup and you could barely tell I was doing it.”  Now, I was feeling really uncomfortable, like I had crossed the line from TMI to CVS (Could Vomit Soon) and needed to leave the classy environs of Best Buy to head to my next destination.

I’m not lying when I tell you I was more than a little afraid of where I was going next. I was venturing into the belly of the beast and I didn’t know if I was woman enough to handle it. I have survived many treacherous moments in the my life up to and including; the infamous Kappa sorority rush party of 1987 where a stampede of wannabe Kappas hyped up on pixie sticks and shots of Coffee Mate Peppermint Mocha Creamer morphed into a concussion tornado, bested two women for the deluxe labor and delivery suite in the hospital while 7 cmm dilated and chaperoned 6th grade snow survival day where I was “accidently” buried alive in a snow cave and had to claw my way out. (No worries, I got those damn kids back. I told them we were being chased by a family of rabid bears.) I hoped those experiences had prepared me because Wal-Mart here I come.

Keep reading and check out Black Friday part 2, 3, and  4.

You know what’s a freaking good deal? My Snarky book series. If you haven’t experienced a Snarky book yet may cover_1-3-21I gently suggest you give it a try like right now. Yes, my friend just click on one of the links and presto you can get yourself some Snarky for only, wait for it, wait for it, 99 cents!  You can buy it for your Kindle or in paperback on Amazon.  It’s also available for the Nook or you can get it for your Kobo reader. Click on a link and give it a test read. 🙂