Every year my accomplice, also known as my sister who won’t fucking tell me who she voted for!!!!,--UPDATE, I started this blog yesterday and was lazy as fuck so I didn’t finish it, she told me this morning during shop talk while getting ready who she voted for-- and I agree to wake up around 3am, make a coffee (she does, I know better and stick with OJ because there are ZERO doodey stops), grab a banana and head out with brass knuckles in the waistband of my leggings. In all of the years we have been making Black Friday our bitch, we have NEVER slept in until the 3am call time. Take last year for example. The night before our plan has been made, coupons organized, our route mapped out, which stores have door busters, snack packed, outfit ready, which is a something of a science but I’ll get there, and our number one must-have established. You’d think having eaten Thanksgiving food 3 times in one day and consuming alcohol to take the edge off being around family for 12 hours would make one tired…no. Post Thanksgiving meal number 4, I laid in bed for 3 hours, not sleeping, not watching tv, not moving. I laid there staring at my door waiting for the strip of light illuminating from my sisters door crack indicating she’s awake and it’s go time. I never have to worry about her dropping the ball on an early call time because she’s just as squirrely as I am and I knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep either. Around 2:30am this bitch’s light comes on. I’m up, my leggings are already on and my hair is in a nest on the top of my head.
Black Friday Fit consists of leggings or yoga pants, whatever will allow a pair of jeans to slide over your ass without taking them off, a tank top and zip up dri-fit. The zip up must have pockets because there are NO purses on Black Friday. You get to carry your credit card, driver’s license and charged cell phone. The dri-fit material is for pit control. We are a family of B.O and sweaters, this is nothing new. There must not be anything to weigh you down in case of a running situation. If we are running it’s every man for themselves…some might say this sounds ridic but last year…WE RAN. Ok, let me clarify, my sister ran to get in line at Old Navy for the free underwater digital camera. I ran because we just broke into the mall and I wanted a head start on whatever mall cop was going to throw down his donut and chase me through Chesterfield. We are not above breaking and entering for a $200 camera nor were we above making the middle-aged couple that broke in with us, eat our dust because only the first 50 people got cameras. I’ll hand this one to my sister because I know if she reads this, she will comment that breaking the law was her trophy so fine…I had nervous number 2 and you were ready to outrun cheech for the greater good of our haul. All hail. Not only did we get cameras…numbers 49 and 50 in line THANK YOU…we made it in and out of Old Navy in under 5 minutes. You tell me one other person in your life that has ever made it out if there in less than 2 hours on Black Friday then come talk to me.
The key to Black Friday shopping is the zone defense, but in the rare instance of Victoria’s Secret 2010, it’s man-on-man. Going in, we know what we want from each store, which ones have giveaways and which ones always have booshetto lines. 2 years ago VS was giving away $10 sweatpants or some jazz we felt we HAD TO HAVE. First I’ll start by saying *if you’re under the age of 21, keep your hung-over ass at home on Black Friday; you’ll do yourself, your face and society a favor. People of all ages who don’t know the Black Friday protocol are annoying as fuck but nothing chaps my ass like a 16 year old high off just getting their license and the booze they snuck at Thanksgiving, talking shit. Anyone who has been unfortunate enough to read these blogs know my thoughts on privileged private school yuppy whores in Uggs, sweatpants tucked in, a north face and purposely messed up pony. If you don’t, oh please let me enlighten you. Click January 2012 under Archives and enjoy the treat that is ‘Bread Co. Boycott.’ You’ll see it because I’m a lazy beast and only write shit when I get a sparkle up my ass. These prissy sissies really bring out my inner BFB (Black Friday Bitch). Normal Black Friday animals herd in a single file line outside of the store upon it’s opening. We chat about how insane the line is, make fun of people with highlighted maps of the store because they didn’t pre-shop and hide shit the day before like we did and figure out what we are having for lunch around 8am.
As we approached the target, we quickly took in the scene of 300 sluts in Sperrys (you’re impressed with how much I’ve been rhyming, don’t bull shit). There was NO line. These pre-Madonna’s were sprawled all over the floor, taking naps, playing games and braiding hair. This isn’t a fucking slumber party, take that shit to your Wildwood mansion and have mom throw on a k-cup...annoying little shits. We knew right away this was going to be a blood bath. Victoria’s Secret should have an age requirement to begin with so I can’t fully blame them but I’ll give them 98.9% of the blame. No one under the age of 21 should be allowed in there. Not only are they annoying as fuck, but why does a 13 year old need a thong? You bitches steal my sizes. Get on to the bargain bin at Target or buy your undies in the multi pack like I had to.
We had no other choice but to join the Girl Scouts, so to pass time we conferenced over what our top color choices would be and what sizes we needed. As it approached opening, these idiots started smashing against the door Walmart-style for a $50 laptop. I didn’t mind this only because it got my game face on. They were no longer twerps with an agenda; they were the enemy in the battle zone. My sister tends to freeze under pressure packed herds so I knew this one would be on me. I line-backered my way through amongst the yells and whines of the upper crust who couldn’t handle an elbow to the ribcage. You would’ve thought they were giving away gold bars the way these bitches were swarming the pants table. We knew we had to find an opening if we stood a chance snagging the smalls or mediums. My lovely sister’s suggestion was to launch me on to the pile. Before I could object, I was airborne. I ran that pile like an auctioneer discounting
Elvis memorabilia. "WhatsizeisthatWhatsizeisthatWhatcoloristhatOhthatsasmallThatsasmallYouneedamediumIgotyourmedium."
In closing, please do my fellow animals and myself a favor this holiday season. If you’re under 21, keep your ass snuggled in your down comforter. Don’t make me go North County on your ass because you ignored my blinker indicating I’ll be taking that parking spot. And if you’re pregnant, prissy or try to take the cheap route of sending your child through the line because you think people won’t knock him the fuck out…game on.