What’s your biggest phobia? Everyone’s got a few. One of mine? Getting caught in a crowd-gone-crazy and being trampled to death. I know, completely random and irrational. To me, laying naked in a coffin full of spiders crawling all over my skin sounds more enjoyable than going anywhere jam-packed and crowded. Tight spaces? Fine. Spiders on my face? Okay, I can deal. Going to the State Fair? No way in hell. Concert? I might start crying. Parents: be careful you aren’t forever traumatizing your children with Where’s Waldo books. That’s the shit nightmares are made of.
So, yesterday when I decided to go shopping on Black Friday for the first time, it was a big deal. I’ve always been one of those people who thought holiday shoppers were just a bunch of rabid crazies, but…I have to admit — it was kind of fun. I got to shove, elbow, and trip a few people. Throw up the bird here and there. All while saving a few dollars. (My mother, and Joe Rogan, would be so proud.) Plus, it gave me the chance to escape family and be alone for a little bit. It was a holiday win for me. Not so much for the people I took out, though. Those poor shmucks.
I went into Thanksgiving a bit cautious after the whole stuffing fiasco with my mother-in-law. It went pretty well. I was pumped full of so much wine I could barely move and pretty oblivious to anything going on. Until dessert rolled around, and she neatly laid all of the choices out on the table. All of them except the one I brought. Which was left alone and covered on an empty table in another room. I think it was on purpose. Alex thinks I’m being paranoid. Which one of us is right? Only time will tell.