Turns out it doesn’t matter how much I deny it, shut my eyes tight, plug my ears and scream, Christmas is gonna show up. (I know, it sounded like a valid plan to me, too.)
So I braved the mall today. Thank god the economy sucks, because it wasn’t nearly as crowded as I thought it would be. Having said that, I still had to come into accidental body contact (and one incident I’m pretty sure was not an accident. But not unenjoyable either. So I let it go.) with a lot more people than I would have liked. As I seem to have left my sanity, my money and a good chunk of my will to live at the mall, all I have left for you is this disjointed list of stuff I thought about:
1. You know what the key to a decent Christmas shopping trip is? Sherpas.
A sherpa for every shopper. Someone to schlep my coat, my purse, my 60 pounds of purchases. I would be in such a good mood. Someone call the Nepalese consulate, get a program in place.
2. I found what I thought were the best presents evah. And then I gave my head a shake, realized how bitchy and tired I was, and put down the sushi set (that I picked out for someone who hates fish) and the bronze nativity set (for the person who doesn’t believe in god).
3. What. The. Hell?
I get it. Real dogs shed, and eat, and poop. Then, they die. Who wants to deal with all that messy, real-life? I’m sure this battery operated alternative will provide the kids with precious, precious memories. That they’ll be telling to a well-paid therapist in 10 years.
4. I had a killer parking spot. Second stall in from the door at Sears. One of the three proudest moments of my life. Other drivers looked at me enviously. I felt a swell of un-earned pride. And posessiveness. It felt…familiar. And I realized the last time I felt like this, I was the first one out on the playground, and I got “The Good Swing.” Every school had one: the chains weren’t twisted and fucked up, the seat wasn’t split, it didn’t squeak or catch, its path sayed true, no matter what. And you only gave it up for your Very Best Friend. Today I had the good swing. Since my Very Best Friend wasn’t there, I gave it to a Very Nice Family in a Beige Chevy. I hope they remember me fondly.
5. By the end, it was a bit of a shit show. I was balancing 40 pounds of shopping bags on each arm, forearm and hand. My coat was tied around my waist, and was sliding south. I was sweaty and tired. Who do you think opened and held doors for me? Kindly, middle aged men? Young moms, who could spot one of their own in trouble? Grandmas, just happy to help? Nope. As far as those demographics were concerned, I could go fuck myself. Today, it was emo kids to the rescue. Surly, black-haired, pierced-lip emo boys. On 3 separate occasions. That was nice. (I feel like I should do penance. A hundred lines of “I will not mock emo kids. I will not mock emo kids”. Etc.)
I’m not done shopping. But a good chunk is out of the way. As for the rest, if I can’t get it at the grocery store or the gas station, I’m not getting it. Sorry.