Big Black Hoax

I think Black Friday is a hoax.

I went out yesterday, dragging the baby and my sorry bloated self out of bed at an unreasonable hour to see what I could see. What did I see? 50% off. I’m sorry, but if I’m going to get up early on a holiday weekend and brave the cloud of morning breath wafting through the aisles, I expect at least 70% from Mervyn’s (who is going out of business anyway). I got nuttin’ for Christmas yesterday.

The only people who seemed to be getting a screaming deal on anything yesterday were the men. If you want something electronic, rising early seems to bring big, wide screen worms. But why should the stores reward all those men on the ONE DAY A YEAR they shop?

Here we are, killing ourselves off month in and month out to keep their clearance racks thinned, and on the most exciting shopping day of the year who gets the treats? Our husbands. Who are out shopping for themselves. It’s so very, very wrong. 

It’s probably a good thing I didn’t find anything yesterday since I couldn’t have paid for it anyway. But I did accomplish one fantastic thing: I signed a 6-month lease at The Quilted Bear in Ogden to sell the 233 Twilight T-shirts that have been taking up space in my dining room for the past week. Don’t ask me what T-shirts I’ll sell once they’re gone, I never want to see another piece of Twilight merchandise as long as I live. 

If you could sell any T-shirts to women at a craft store, what would you suggest? Seriously? What would you buy? 

Let me know. And here’s a secret: if the Twilight shirts don’t sell, I’m slashing the prices Wednesday. Shhh, don’t tell your friends.