Black Friday or ‘How I Stabbed Myself in the Eye’

By Elise Roedenbeck, Pocho Ñews Service

Hey, everybody! Here comes that most horrible days of days: Black Friday, or as I like to call it, stab-myself-in-the-eye-and-roll-under-a-bus day!

Black Friday makes me want to jump off a cliff into a pile of rusty knives. I can’t think of anything worse than waking up at the butt-crack of dawn to go shopping in a crowded mall full of deal-crazed screamy people while the smell of pretzel donuts fills the air and dance beats blast over the sound system.

Seriously, why are they always playing that horrible uplifting dance music? Are they trying to force me to be happy? Shopping is not Happy Time. I don’t want to do the sandbar shimmy while I try on pants, I want to feel awkward and inadequate like God intended.

I’ve never understood Black Friday, but then again, I don’t buy Christmas presents. How will my family know that I love them, you ask? My family has long accepted that I am incapable of love. Just kidding. I’m capable, I just refuse.

As if opening a store at 5AM isn’t early enough to get your $2 Pokemon t-shirt, big stores are starting Black Friday on Thursday night.

I understand that spending an entire day with your family isn’t all that different from jumping off a cliff into a pile of rusty knives, but for God’s sake, do you really need to go shopping at Wal-Mart at 8 PM on Thanksgiving? Is your life really that empty? Read a book, climb a tree, wait for your aunt to pass out on the sofa and draw a mustache on her belly button.

My sister has predicted that soon Thanksgiving will just be another day we go shopping. Forget the turkey and the flan, forget about watching your uncle get drunk and dance to Rock Lobster after dinner. Those days are over. And think of the poor retail workers. Don’t kid yourself — they don’t want to be there on a regular basis, let alone on Thanksgiving Day.

The beauty of Thanksgiving is that it’s one of those few precious days you can’t just run outside and buy whatever you want. The horror! What will happen if we run out of milk? Think of the children! THE CHILDREN NEED MILK!

OK, well, if you’re that concerned about milk, go buy a boatload of milk. It’s not exactly a rare commodity. And sure, inevitably, I always forget one thing I needed for Thanksgiving dinner but then I just call my sisters or one of my 12 billion cousins and ask them if I can borrow some anise.

I guess all of this is to say is, I like being home on Thanksgiving. I like knowing all the stores are closed. I like knowing I can just sit on my couch and get smashed on peppermint schnapps and watch Iron Chef reruns until I pass out because there’s nothing else to do.

And for that, I am thankful.

This article was first published in Pocho.com.

POCHO ÑEWS SERVICE PNS IS A WHOLLY-FICTITIOUS SUBSIDIARY OF POCHISMO INC., A CALIFORNIA CORPORATION, WHO IS A PERSON ACCORDING TO THE SUPREME COURT.  DON’T ASK US, WE JUST WORK