Armed With a List and a Piping Hot Venti Caramel Macchiato

We're just going to skip Thanksgiving altogether because really - turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, various pies - we all did the same thing, right? Right. And what goes great with 4am heartburn and last night's dinner that you can still taste? Shopping.

Little known fact: The term "Black Friday" was originated by the Philadelphia police department in 1966 because of the sidewalk and street traffic the first official shopping day brings. So says my Wikipedia search.

I call it "Black Friday" because it's black outside when you leave the house. On Friday. badum-CHING! [Editor's note: Vintage Thirty apologizes for that lame remark] Thank you, thank you...how many of you flew in from out of town? Are your arms tired? badum-CHING! [Editor's note: Vintage Thirty would like whomever it is that's providing the rimshot to please stop, it just encourages Tootsie]

In my whole life I had never shopped the Friday following Thanksgiving, or that whole weekend, for that matter. Because A) I hate crowds, and B) Especially crowds of people hell bent on a deal and running on insufficient sleep. That's a recipe for cranky and rude and really, is that worth the savings? But in 2006, the year I believe I entered perimenopause and lost some of my marbles, I decided to go see what all the fuss was about.

So, blah blah blah, 4:30am, Starbucks, mall, 8am home, kids and Mr. Farklepants still asleep, three quarters of my Christmas list complete. The mall RAWKS on black Friday. Well, I can't speak for YOUR mall but ours does. So since that went so smoothly and I was telling my sisters ohmahgah it was so awesome and they were like ohmahgah we're totally going with you next time, and they totally did. Except in 2007 we made the poor POOR choice to go to Kohl's, not the mall. [please insert the sound of a needle scraping across an album on the record player here] THAT? Was the most HORRIBLE, AWFUL, WASTE OF TIME shopping trip of my life. Ever. Ever in forever. Ever. If there was a deal I don't know what it was. I spent almost $300 and didn't even get that much stuff and the line to pay wrapped around the store and people were opening up instant credit for an additional savings, the heat was stifling and ohmyhell someone totally farted. Audibly.

I still have nightmares.

So this year my sisters were all, so are we going to the mall or what? If there's one thing I like, it's teenagers with moxie. And a willingness to get up at 3:45am.


Everyone say hi to Tootsie's sisters!

By 8am we had turned the mall inside out and also Target and refrained from coming home with a pet store Cocker Spaniel puppy. There was nothing left to do but breakfast.

These bags represent just a portion of the booty. The rest of my booty is still in the back of my car hiding from the kids. And there is a "Yo Mama is So Fat" joke in there somewhere, I just know it.

This book How to Traumatize Your Children is a great gift for a sister in law who can take an effing joke.

I have four nephews and four nieces. I often get them the same gifts, with slight variations, so that no one feels like they've been shafted. Especially the girls. Because girls? Oy vey. This year it's jackets!

Two of them were originally $35, one was $55, and the other (not pictured) a whopping $140.


But I got all four for just over one hundred dollars. Two words: Door Busters.