Game. Set. Match.

Breathe a big sigh of relief. It’s done. I can now freely bask in the magic of Christmas.

As per my last blog (written while tired and buzzed), I was going to get my Christmas shopping done today, come Hell or High Water. And I was going mentally loaded for bear. Had the red shirt on (blood won’t stain it), the steel-toe Doc Martens on my feet and the will to use them in a malicious fashion.

It started off just as I expected. While just driving out to the various shops, a jackhole came out of nowhere and cut me off. And what really irked me is this wasn’t even a necessary maneuver — the driver didn’t bother to look to see where I was — I know because I always watch the other driver when someone merges. Now, for whatever reason, this is one part of my Floridian behavior that I simply can’t seem to shed — cut me off and I have to make sure that you see me flip you off. (It was well known that I drove around Florida with my middle fingers perpetually extended.) So, I flip the diver off, but cannot verify that the driver saw it. Now it’s on.

After a brief time, I come up on the other vehicle, who is going to exit on a ramp. As I pass and get ready to launch the bird, I realize she has totally pre-emptively retaliated on my ass. And being that she’s a large black woman, it’s not only the pre-emptive bird, it’s the pre-emptive bird with sass. If her middle finger could have said, “Oh no you didn’t!”, it would have.  I can’t explain it any further than that, because I broke out laughing as I went to flip her off. She dropped the sass-bomb bird on my ass before I could get any of my birds in the air. I couldn’t even break out one of my many specialty birds, such as the “1810 Overture bird” or the  “2001: A Space Odyssey” bird. She completely owned me on that exchange. I had no choice but to concede defeat.

So, I make it out to The Waterworks mall (laughing all the way) because I need to stop in to Old Navy to get my sister and 2 of my nephews stuff. And it rapidly became clear why I have clothes that are, literally, 20 years old. I was just browsing in the men’s department, and I couldn’t believe that crap. Now, I’m not a spring chicken, I understand that — so half of those clothes are things I shouldn’t be wearing anyhow. However, that being said, I’m not a corpse, either. If I were to die and someone thought it would be funny to dress me in that crap, I hope to God that one of my friends would have the decency to set my body on fire — that’s how awful that shit was. It pained me to make purchases there for the family, but hey, it’s Christmas and it’s what they want/need. I’ll suck it up.

Hit Barnes and Nobles for a couple other gifts. Normally, bookstores are where I go into prime back-kicking rages because people are always underfoot, and there never seems to be enough staff to handle the long lines. And if they do happen to have enough staff, they are only the most incompetent employees that they have to work the registers. But it was a relatively light crowd, and the only problem was that one woman couldn’t get it through her head that the woman in front of her was trying to let her go in front because she wanted to talk to a third woman. But that didn’t even get my foot twitching, let alone wanting to pick her up, body slam her on the clearance table, climb on to the register desk and Superfly Snuka her ass — which is the norm when I’m stuck in a bookstore line.

Had lunch at Uncle Sam’s. I love that place. However, I was disappointed by the lack of teenagers that I could eavesdrop on. Food was great, as always. I left fat and happy.

By the time I hit the second part of my shopping day, I was rather sedate. I didn’t have to throw any elbows all morning, so my vigor was rather sapped. I picked up a few more items rather effortlessly. It was almost disappointingly easy. I must admit, I was rather disturbed that everyone was being so civil, so I cruised around just to do a little people watching. Outside of a pregnant teen with really bad prison-bitch tats (“Yer gonna get ink on your fetus!”) and me wanting to take a running start and throw a shoulder into some emo kids (“Now you got something to write about in your journal, bitch!”), there was really nothing to report. Well, OK, some old guy who almost ran me over in the Lowes parking lot got a “Merry Christmas to you too, assclown!” — but the only person who heard it was a Lowes employee who saw the whole thing, and she burst out laughing.

Stopped to go grocery shopping. Again, no major fiascos. People smiling, making eye contact, saying “Hello” and being relatively chipper. Again, this left me feeling rather bewildered. Where were the grimaces? Where were the crazed Walmart-employee stomping crowds? This whole experience was feeling like a ’50s Christmas special come to life, and I wasn’t prepared for that at all.

The next to last stop was at Kmart, where I bought wrapping paper (cause Santa freakin’ wraps, you damn dirty heathens) and spent entirely too long of a time nodding politely to an old woman talking to me about the wonders of a particular brand of bird seed.

Last stop was the beer distributor, for obvious reasons — some people you just can’t buy gifts for, so they get beer.

But it’s done now. All of it. I can take comfort in the fact that the only things I have left to do is write out Christmas cards and wrap gifts. Hallelujah.

So tonight’s beer and enchiladas won’t be to calm my rattled nerves … no no, they’ll be for a job well done. No homicides. No injuries. I’ll call that a win.


2 Responses to “Game. Set. Match.”

  1. December 18, 2008 at 11:57 am

    So what kind of beer did you buy yourself?

  2. 2 Three
    December 18, 2008 at 5:30 pm

    I had a “Dragon’s Milk” ale when I came home (which wasn’t too shabby, I must say), and then a couple Yings and a Sam Adam’s Winter Lager when I was out. I go sober for the beginning of the New Year, so any beer bought has to be drunk immediately or remains in the fridge until St. Patty’s day.

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