Today I had to make a pregame run to the Mecca of madness to replace my 800lb Sony paperweight once known as a TV. Now don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for the Walton family’s penchant for deep discounts and providing jobs for people who would normally be fart sniffers in the seat department for the bus company, however upon entering the temple of thrift and dodging the door greeter sharing the story of her boil removal surgery, I was blasted into the insanity that has become the Christmas shopping season. It isn’t even cold out yet but I swear I saw some jackass in a Santa suit handing out candy canes in the candy aisle.
As I tried to fight my way back to electronics to find a suitable flat screen with which to watch the Patriots-Colts game I found there was no escaping the madness.
It isn’t even black Friday and already grown women are knocking people over to get to the Hannah Montana gift sets. There were artificial tree displays up, freshly lit and begging my wife to order me to actually string the lights up on the house this year. I can’t wait to dangle my ass on a 30 foot ladder tangled in wire while Charlie the nosiest neighbor in the west comes out to supervise. Then she spots the gift box selection and I know this has now turned into a 2 hour credit card max fest.
By the time I get to the back of the store I find the big screen display area inundated with a full head of teeth split between 20 people all asking is this TV would fit in their trailer. And it’s really hard to judge how the big game is going to look when every screen is set to NASCAR highlights of the Dover Dirt Track Regional Championship.
After finally gaining the attention of the clerk with more zits than brain cells, I made a quick choice, was ordered to pay at the counter loaded with shoppers pouring over digital cameras they were interested in so they could capture cousin Fred’s colonoscopy,all because they were afraid I might make a break for the door with a 72″ flat screen tucked under my arm while I fumbled for my keys while dodging 400lb woman on the electric go cart with a basket.
Attempting to make a quick escape to the pick up area so I could get home and set this mother up by kick off was a far fetched idea. I had to say no to the extended overpriced warranty, hear about his homecoming escapades and get some dolts uninvited opinion on how great porn looks on one of these baby’s.
When the transaction was finally complete and I thought my horror was about to end the clerk wished me “Happy Holidays”. It isn’t even god damn Thanksgiving you mentally void pimple popper. I’m still eating Halloween candy some kid dropped in my front yard when I fired up the wood chipper and your telling me happy holiday? First its fucking Christmas you politically correct adolescent and you need to wait a few weeks before you break out the Santa shit. I know everyone of these stores wants to capture every red cent of our shopping dollar but what ever happened to power shopping the week before the fat guy and his 8 tiny Ted Nugent targets flew over town.
And nobody needs half this shit they have on display anyway. When is the last time you used a combination pocket knife, tire pressure gage, electronic scent detector and eyebrow pencil. I have a drawer full of useless holiday gifts that are ready for the trash as soon as Aunt Milly takes the long dirt nap.
The part of the trip that was rather enjoying was watching the kids that hadn’t washed their faces in weeks over in the toy department searching the bottom of the boxes for paint flecks from anything made in China. Like we needed an explanation about their behavior as it is.
Receipt in hand I wedged myself through the throngs of ornament pickers and located my wife. Great a fucking cart full of icicle lights for me to put up. Not only that but it meant another hour of waiting in line at the one of the four check-stands that were open and lined with people who still can’t master the art of sliding their debit card through the slot on the machine. When we actually began to load the bundles of glittering bulbs of several trips up the ladder to the Emergency room on the belt and I figured we were no more than 15 minutes from leaving the parking lot, Matilda the really really lonely checker began to speak. She proceeded to read the box the lights were packed in and tell us about the holiday display her dearly departed husband Merle used to put up before his tragic accident involving the gasoline and a chipmunk. Finally she handed us our receipt and I pushed my spousal unit away before this woman could offer her take on how happy the holidays should be. Running for the door must have sparked interest in the door greeter again who insisted on checking our receipt item by item and informing me I was missing the TV and again how she had just had a boil removed.
Racing to the truck and then dodging as many painfully slow walking pedestrians as I could I pulled up to the door, dropped the tailgate and hurriedly loaded the new altar into the truck. Thank god the employee sent to assist was a mute but did mumble hmmm hmhmms as my tires screeched out of the lot.
By the time I got this thing installed and ready to worship the new Apostle Tom Brady , it was only minutes to kick off and I had missed all the early games that would have allowed me to gain the perfect position on the sofa sectional pew.
It was a heavenly experience. You could even see the outline of the band-aids covering the nipples of the Colt cheer leaders. Now that’s HD TV.
My wife is making plans to disgrace the temple of the man cave by holding a scrap-booking and chick flick marathon ON MY NEW TV, however I laid down the law and told her it would have to occur on the first Saturday following the Army Navy game. Every man knows that between that and the first bowl game all that is on is Cat Wrestling. I put that date on the calender as the Saturday to put up the 250,000 imported Italian twinkle lights. As long as their crap is out before the start of the most important of holiday seasons……Bowl Week.
Merry Thanksgiving and Happy Christmas