In 1983, I’d forgotten about Nate’s birthday — my (then) youngest nephew. He was turning 7 on November 29. And I hadn’t gotten him anything.
I couldn’t not send him a present. I couldn’t send his present late, either. I had a reputation to uphold, hard-earned through a combination of silliness, indulgence and bribery of my sisters’ kids. The favorite aunt.
So bravely, OK, foolishly, I went to ToysRUs on Black Friday that year. Because I am a damn good aunt. A saint.
It was a madhouse. Wall to wall people, shoving each other around to find the latest favorite toy (Cabbage Patch dolls, I think it was that year). Zillions of people trying to grab things off the shelves, elbows flying, tempers flaring. I’ve never gone shopping on Black Friday again. I never will. Nothing would get me to go. Nothing.
Unless of course, some store re-runs this sale:
On second though, nope. Not even for this fuckin’ sale. Or any other fuckin’ sale, for that matter!
Hope you are/were smart enough to stay home!
My thanks to Toby of Dumbass News for reminding me of this sign.
(Happy Birthday Nate!)