You want to know a stressful time? I’ll Target. Target, a once bustling paradise of but I spent an hour in the store’s clutches. I cashier said that they liked my coat, for I tell you in two words: Black. Friday. Don’t get me wrong, I usually love shopping more than anyone else I know. Exponentially more, in fact. However, I have my own issues with Black Friday. Although it is a gross display of capitalism in every sense of the word, that is not my main issue. My main issue, instead, is that I end up with things I definitely do not need. Now, for example, I have an affinity for rings. However, I only have 10 fingers. So tell me, why would I need two sets of 12 rings each? Do I have 24 fingers? No! I do not. I blame Black Friday.
That incident was only the beginning. That incident occurred at 9 a.m.
The stampedes at the mall, like a tsunami, first brought me to Best Buy. I walked out of there with a TV. I don’t even have cable. I saw people fight tooth and nail over a few dollars’ difference in the price of an Xbox Minecraft bundle. It was terrifying.
Next, I managed to make my way over to discounted DVDs and a $5 clearance section, was now a desolate Hunger Games-esque wasteland. I cowered in the only place I KNEW I couldn’t be found: the Keurig Pod section (Why the Target I frequent keeps it separate from coffee items, I will never know—but that’s a different story).
Next to Target was the “As Seen on TV” store, which I thought people legitimately fabricated for a meme. What a wonder it was: The asinine products advertised on the late-night shows I watch when I am sick had somehow transcended the barrier of that world and real life. I held a “My Pillow” for the first time. It truly did have magical properties. It really was as good as everyone says. Something about that store, however, was off. The employees smiled too wide. Time didn’t see to move. Everything was too clean. I was convinced I had stepped into an episode of “The Twilight Zone.” I assumed I left after mere minutes, thought myself lucky to make it out.
The rest of the day was a complete blur. I vaguely remember purchasing 12 Cinnabons at one point, but I can’t be sure. Whatever I bought was gone before the car ride back was over, anyways. When I reached home base, it was time to assess the damage done to my bank account. Were the deals worth it? Was Bank of America going to be able to snarkily pen another email saying, “Just thought you’d like to know your account is under $25 again!”?
The damage was worse than I had thought. I had purchased the entire Sims 4 bundle, and I own a Mac. I can’t run the entire Sims 4 bundle on a Mac. I am now the proud owner of a great game set and a computer that can’t do anything.
In addition, I had initially thought I purchased a pretty stylish coat. I was feeling myself for awhile, and everything was great. I then walked into Forever 21, where the gave off a “very neo-nun vibe.” I turned and looked in the mirror—I was literally wearing what looked like a full habit, minus the four-inch thigh-high boots.
Further inspection of my purchases produced two gallons of milk, a copy of “Mulan,” a DIY slime kit, Starbucks Keurig Pods (I couldn’t resist), the second season of HTGAWM, a fake succulent/dinosaur planter, a pair of pink flip-flops and a pack of glitter glue. I bought NONE of the essentials I needed, and now I am left with the ageold problem of trying to figure out what to do with a pack of glitter glue. If I were, say, in kindergarten and not college, I imagine it’d be easier. Any tips? Let me know. How mad would my professors be if I signed and dated the hard copies of my essays in glitter glue? What if I glitter glued my assignments together instead of using staples? Suffice to say, I guess my Black Friday purchases can actually be useful.