Black Friday Bah Humbug

If you are reading this and it's before ten in the morning, you can bet your Black Friday hand mixers that I am still in bed sound asleep.

I used to do the Black Friday thing. I used to do it very well. I would get out of bed at 4:30 in the AM, snag my $3 coat and my $6 jeans, toss in some 50 cent towels (not endorsed by the rapper, by the way) and be back home in my own bed before the family even knew I was gone. Not this year, though.

Black Friday has been ruined for me. This year, I carefully scanned the ads just as soon as they were released. I made my list of the bargains I wanted to score: headphones for The Daughters, jeans, sheets, and buy one get one free boots. I would set my alarm for 4:30 and be out and back in bed snoring before the sun even rose.

Then the stores ruffled my feathers. They started their sales at midnight.  On Thanksgiving. I'm crying B.S.! No wonder the workers at Hellmart are always cranky. They know that all roads lead to Black Friday - and now, Grey Thursday. They don't even get to enjoy that one last cold, leftover turkey sandwich with their families. They've been robbed of their Thanksgiving. Unless all the retail workers are Canadian or Jehovah Witness, and they just don't give a rat's ass because they celebrate Thanksgiving a month earlier or not at all.

This year, out of respect for the workers who are giving up their holiday to deal with shoppers publicly fighting over $3 DVDs of old Tom Hanks' movies, I'll be staying home. "Solidarity and a full-holiday-DAY for all!" (or something like that) is my battle cry. My fist is raised in support of retail workers who just want a day away from the warring public to spend a day with their warring families.

Therefore, I proclaim that I will not be Black Friday shopping this year.

At least until their normal hours because Momma wants those BOGO boots.