I’ll admit it. I went shopping on Black Friday.

Now don’t be getting any crazy ideas about me waking up at 2:30 a.m. You’d have to be giving away A HOUSE for me to spend the night in line outside of a store in the middle of November. I’m not 19 yo anymore hoping to see The Rolling Stones once before they retire (hey who’d a thought Keith Richards would live this long??).

All of the shopping I did Friday was Santa-related. Therefore, I wanted to make sure I could easily hide the gifts from the prying eyes of my three crazies.

Lessons learned?

1.  When you drive off in your small car wondering why it was you had thought about driving the big SUV with the tinted windows, go with your gut and turn around to exchange cars.

I looked at the circulars the night before, compared prices, determined the bargains worth pursuing and reminded myself to drive the SUV. So why did I hop in the little car the next morning??
Who freaking knows.

It was early and I still had a turkey hangover. That’s the only way I can explain it.

All I know is I was shoving bags into every crevice in that damn little car, bitching at myself for not having cleaned it out and realizing I’d have to go drop stuff off at home before I could park it in the next parking lot or fear being robbed.

Annoyed–mostly at myself.

2.  ToysRUs needs to get itself a mom blogger panel or something STAT!

Target had red bags to use for Christmas presents.  KMart had black bags that said “no peeking” on them.

ToysRUs?  See-thru tan bags.  Um?  You primarily sell toys.  It’s Black Friday.  Do you think I waited for twenty minutes for staff restock the shelves and stood in that winding line to buy a birthday present for my kid’s classmate?!  This clearly isn’t your first Christmas in business is it?  Do you have any moms on your executive staff?  I mean it had to occur to SOMEONE that providing bags kids can’t see through would be a great idea at this time of the year.

Now you know I’m a slob,  shopped big box this weekend (for the record I was also in supporting small businesses too) and that I drive a gas-guzzling suburban assault vehicle.

Oh. my. god!  I’m a suburban cliche.

Crap.