The Johnny Cash of Fridays

Spoiler alert: I frickin' love Black Friday.

We've all heard the backlash. Watched the social media statuses about boycotting. Seen the news clips of trampling, crazy crowds. Listened to the growing dislike / bitching about how Black Friday is now more like Black Thursday or Black November (which is not very shiny for the holidays). And yes, I genuinely do feel bad for any retail employees forced to work on Thanksgiving - but I usually feel bad for retail employees all year round, so...

None of that phases me though because, above and beyond anything else, Black Friday is that most important of things: tradition. It's not a day that takes me away from my family / from being thankful and robs me of my soul or some nonsense - it's the opposite. It's time spent with my mom, being grateful that we can afford to buy gifts for the holidays (even if it's just once they're on sale). And this, dear friends, is the tale of how Black Friday has stuck with us, and why it will until someone forcibly stops me from continuing with it.

It started in 1992, when my hard-working single mama wanted to get something special for her babbling daughters, both under age ten at the time. That special something? A g'damn Super Nintendo (with Mario Paint!). That staple of our childhood wouldn't have been affordable if not for those super sales. We'd have surely turned to a life of crime or hard drugs had we not had three versions of Donkey Kong Country to conquer instead. From that point forward, the morning after Thanksgiving had new purpose.

The definition of happiness. Framed. 

Living in a small town, the nearest major retail stores were a 45-minute drive. That meant that (depending on the year), you would find my ma, grandma, sister and me (and sometimes my aunt) loading into the car around 3:00 or 4:00 am. We weren't leaving in the middle of family dinner or anything. In fact, we left around the time most of the men of the family were getting ready to hit the woods for deer hunting. This was our version of "hunting season" - hunting for sweet bargains!

The first stop: the local gas station to get coffee (or, in my case, hot cocoa). Then we were in the car, jamming to the oldies, until our arrival to "the city." We strategically picked store order based on desired purchases and opening times. If we really wanted something, my sister and I served as the family placeholder in the line, with ma and grandma jumping in as soon as we got within range of the door. Once inside: the pure adrenaline and sheer thrill of unadulterated capitalism took hold. 

Since a young age, Black Friday has been a game for me. It's like the ultimate, high-stakes scavenger hunt, where being small is a beautiful advantage (until you need to carry a TV or a big crock pot or something). No carts, just zipping about, my little hands reaching into a bin and running off with the goods before the adults around me knew what was happening. If tears needed to be shed or elbows thrown to get the last of some item, then the game face went on and you did whatever it took. A battle royale with stressed out moms at 4:00am - a most dangerous game indeed. 

Everyone had their mission: a list written up after reviewing the sales papers the day before. There was often the sneaky exchange of, "Grandma, I want to get this for mom for Christmas but I'm a child and have no concept of money, I have $3, can you help me?" or of my Grandma insisting that we go sit in the car with her, while my mom skirted around the nearby cars and ninjaed two three-foot long Casio keyboards into the trunk without us seeing somehow. We were mostly buying gifts for one another, so discretion was key. 

If anyone got lost, the rendez-vous point was usually the unoccupied greeting card aisle. To help find each other, we also had a string of family chants over the year. This was usually a random phrase that could be shouted in an attempt to locate missing persons without causing much alarm. Because a little girl shrieking, "TEAM JACOB!" in the card aisle is just amusing, and not worth calling security over. And when you see a grown woman hollering "Alright alright alright" (à la McConaughey) into the void, you just assume she got up too early to go shopping and is getting a little loopy (or is drunk).

At the end of it all, we'd return to the car. Victorious, we'd nestle against our crinkly plastic bags and settle in for the ride home. The sun was usually coming up, and our bellies were grumbling. Nap time awaited, followed buy turkey day leftovers for lunch. All was well. 

Cheers to victory, and another item checked off the list!

Over the years, we've gotten more savvy about the shopping. We're no longer the first ones in the door, we aren't waiting outside in the cold; there isn't anything that we can't live without. After the first wave has hit, we mosey our way into the stores and scoop up any remaining door busters available, wait five minutes in a now empty checkout line and work our way to the next place. Most of what's purchased is no longer sneaky - typically I'll pick a handful of items on my list and tell my ma that's what I want for Christmas. She'll buy, wrap them up, and I'll open them on Christmas morning, happy as a clam at my surprise presents (sometimes having an awful memory has its advantages!). It makes the holiday gift giving infinitely easier. 

At some point, this tradition of scrambling about at dawn, frantically stimulating the economy, may come to an end. Everyone says to just go buy things online instead, avoid the madness. But I tell you what, I live for the madness; it's a thrill. (Not to mention, I still don't fully trust online shopping #CuzIm90) And even if there's nothing I'm getting that's essential to my survival, it's a chance to get some goodies that I likely wouldn't have spent the time to get otherwise, to experience some of the best people watching of the year, and to spend some time with my family. I know I won't always be able to come home for the holidays in the future, so in the meantime, I'm going to cling to this tradition like I did to those $2 candles this morning. You can pry my Black Friday tradition out of my cold, dead fingers, world. Shop on. 

How about you? Is Black Friday your jam, or something you avoid at all costs?

Jingle All the Frickin' Way!

As I began the four hour drive home for the holiday season kick-off (Thanksgiving), my number one exciting thought wasn't of the upcoming pie, or family time, or Packers victory.... it was of the sweet, sweet jams for the journey north. (No offense, family, noms or Pack!)

While perfectly crafted roadtrip mix tapes do hold a special place in my heart, more often than not, it's the random tune that pops up on the radio that ends up creating a perfect moment.  The melody sets the stage and provides a little wink from the past...

Good times in mirror are closer than they appear.

• Getting picked up from pre-school by my grandma. Wearing my little snowsuit and boots. Laying on the fur blanket she had draped over the back seat while The Casinos serenaded my cold little self with "Then you can tell me goodbye." (Note: that song was the definition of love to me as a child - I was a tiny, hopeless romantic.)
• Cruising around my small hometown with my best guy friend in HS (who got his license before the rest of us) in his little pink car, listening to the local pop station, as he shrieked, "OH MY GOD, THIS is the new Britney song! Have you heard it yet??!" and proceeded to crank up "Toxic."
• The ride to/from visiting my dad. The first leg of the journey with my mama pumping up the oldies and the best of 90s country. (Garth, Elvis, Reba, Cher: all the one-named greats.) The second leg featuring nothing but the best of classic rock. (Breakfast in America for days, friends.)
• Having to drive around the block several times and take the "long way" to Senior Prom because "Bohemian Rhapsody" came on. My date wearing the orange tuxedo from Dumb and Dumber and velvet chucks; me donning a dress in the shade of Halloween. We were the scene from Wayne's World only more dapper. 
• Riding in my boyfriend's car, pointing out various songs and how they'll fit into our Indie Rom-Com movie that I'll create someday. Noting things like, "This will be the scene after our horrible break up, with our side-by-side montages - I'll be quite sad and it will probably be raining wherever you are" or "This'll play during the bit years after the breakup, where I randomly see you outside the bookstore and think how this will be our perfect reunion, and just as I'm about to go out to say hello your WIFE shows up - and then I'll run and hide, hoping you didn't see me, but you TOTALLY did." Not that I overthink these things. Or that I watch too many cheesy movies. Just that, you know, the soundtrack is important. 
• Parked outside the movie theater, about to go see the midnight showing of the latest Batman movie (for my birthday, to boot!). Sitting in my car with the volume on max as my sister and I belt out "Kentucky Rain." Our voices hitting a fever pitch at the best line: "Was it yesterday? NO, WAIT the day befoooooore!"
• The certain death that is any car ride in which "Crazy in Love" starts playing. We, the people of the United States of Bey-on-cé, cannot help but dance and attempt all the booty shaking maneuvers (despite any lack of coordination). A silly thing like a steering wheel can't get in the way. The rules of the road? Pfft, negligible when you got me hoping you'll page me right now.

All those songs (and so many more), make up the soundtrack to my memory. They aren't planned, they just happen, creating little points in time that are just sheer perfection. The best we can all do is to try and connect the dots. So go ahead, turn it up. Make sure they hear you coming. 

What's your favorite car jam memory? 

Anyone else agree that singing in the car is better than singing in the shower? (Despite the fact that you're bound to get caught by that guy who looks over at the stoplight - WHY would you look over? Weirdo! Go live in your hurtling, magical metal music box like the rest of us! Keep your eyes on the road!)

The Walrus Quits the Gym

There are certain universal truths for most twenty-somethings. They all start with "at some point, in your twenties you will..." and end with things like "do something silly you regret" or "feel overwhelmed by financial decisions" or "bitch about work." Jumping to just the female version of that list, one thing you're bound to find is "join a gym, start a diet, attempt a new health regime, etc."

Shortly after on the list, you'll find, "quit the gym, cheat at diet, say to hell with salads, etc."

Now, I'm not discouraging living a healthy lifestyle or saying we're a bunch of quitters, it's just a straight fact that we're busy ladies. We've got other things to do, and sometimes we don't want to prioritize healthy stuff. Because happy hour sounds easier after a long day at the office. And some salads are just gross. And I had to look up how to even spell "quinoa." And counting calories is the worst. And no, I don't want to know what's in bologna; I want to bite out a little smiley face from it and hold it up while I laugh like a five year old.

Morale of the story: I cancelled my gym membership. After going really steady for a time, then not, then back again, then taking ALL the classes, then quitting due to my bum knee (#CuzIm90), etc. I fell out of the habit again this summer. It was like a bad relationship; one that I was paying to be in. Spending my hard-earned cash money for something is typically motivation enough, but twas not the case. Finally decided to cut ties and save the $300 a year. This walrus has been quite content with the choice.

A few reasons quitting the gym isn't the end of the frickin' world:

1. The Internet: There are a ZILLION workout videos on the internets. It's actually insane. I've been following an eight week "Fit for Fall" program that gives me all the details for zero dollars. No fancy equipment needed.
2. Fewer Excuses: I can't skip a workout because the weather is bad or it's not safe to drive (Wisconsin problems, world). My gym is my living room, and the traffic to get to there from my kitchen sure ain't bad. 
3. Workout Outfits: They can be literally whatever you want. I can workout naked, or wearing ridiculous looking neon pants, or in a giant sweater because my apartment is freezing, whatever. No one is going to see it, save for the family of claw-machine stuffed animals that hangs out on my couch. 
4. Noms: If I want to pause for a snack break, I can! Okay, wait, this one's not necessarily "good" but... it makes me happy?



Those cookies won't lift themselves! Time for some curls!
(my space pants make me stronger)
#WillSweatForSweets

5. Self Motivation: People say that if it was just left to working out at home, they wouldn't have the willpower because of other distractions. Well, if you don't have the willpower to shut off the TV for twenty minutes, you probably won't be motivated enough to drive to the actual gym either. So...
6. No Human Interaction: Because sometimes I just want to be a hermit and not deal with some bro glaring at me while I use the free weights (they're just ten pound dumbbells, buddy - I am NOT in your way here!). After a long day, the last thing I want to worry about is looking gross-sweaty in public and trying to not feel awkward when my locker is right next to the totally naked woman on her cell phone and I can't remember my lock combo.
7. Sweet Sweat Jams: The soundtrack is in your hands, not the hands of the teenage boy at the check-in desk. All the D. Guetta! 
8. Never Forget: Water bottle. Gym shoes. Headphones. My muscles. There's nothing worse than getting to the gym and having forgotten something. You don't want to turn back, but some of those items (like shoes) are kind of essential. That hair tie will make or break your workout! 

Seriously, they're like elastic angels.
These are actual currency at the gym.
(also just spent ten minutes thinking my fingers look weird...)

The point could be argued many ways; but for me, I'd say this was a decision well made. Maybe someday, when I'm in superstar adult mode, I'll make the gym a habit again.* But for now, I'm going to stubbornly do it all on my own without anyone's help, because that kind of stubbornness is what twenty-somethings are made of. That and hashtags. 

*And all the other healthy adult things. Like meal planning. And doing more than just ripping out the "superfoods you should be eating" article from the waiting room mag at the doctor and putting it on my fridge. And getting healthy magazine subscriptions myself so I don't have to steal pages from expired issues at the doctor's office...