If anyone is looking for material to attack Generation Me, your time has come.
BLACK FRIDAY.
The ultimate example of American materialism, decay of good Christmas values, etc etc. You’ve all heard the stories–the poor old lady who is trampled outside Best Buy because some guy wants his flat screen TV or two moms who get in a catfight over the barbie they both want for their little poopsie.
Picture this: “Hey baby, here’s the barbie you wanted! I sucker punched a 80 year old grandma to get it.” Merry Christmas.
And, as much as I’d love to sit back and criticize those who take part in this ritual, I must admit that on the morning of November 26th I participated in the dark rituals of Black Friday.
Although, after some of the trauma I experienced, I’m not sure I want this tradition to continue.
I spent the early part of the morning in a spat with my older sister because we couldn’t agree on what to purchase my mother. All the while, my little sister is begging me to ‘get into the holiday spirit, Kate’Â and I am continually assaulted by perky sales women who want to enumerate all of the day’s sales (until noon only. UNTIL NOON ONLY.) I get it.
So, after about 5 hours of sleep, little caffeine, a couple of bruises from being hit by pushy shoppers I came to the conclusion that in fact, this isn’t a fun tradition and I needed an ice bath and some psychotherapy.
