It’s not surprising that holiday shopping is one of my least favorite activities. I dislike crowds. I can’t stand waiting in lines. I’m claustrophobic. Finding the “right” gift gives me anxiety. And, I generally have the urge to punch idiots in the face. So, since holiday shopping is an excuse for all of the imbeciles of the world to have a moron parade, I try to make most of my purchases online.
Inevitably there will be a fallen soldier, an item that I’ve completely forgotten about. At this point, I need to get it quick-style and have no choice but to venture out into the perfect storm. Here’s just one scenario that proves why online shopping is the ONLY way of life:
(Insert dream sequence melody.)
After 45 minutes of circling the Target parking lot, I finally find a space. It’s the furthest spot from the entrance, and I have the added bonus of stepping into a small river of pooled, dirty rainwater. After dodging exasperated drivers, I finally make it to the automatic glass doors and enter the world of Target.
I’m on a mission: find and purchase the newest Taylor Swift CD. I immediately head to the electronics section, but it can’t be found in any of the following categories: pop, country or new releases. After searching everywhere throughout the CDs and DVDs, I accidentally find it in the snack aisle between the Twinkies and Ding Dongs. Even though I hadn’t intended on purchasing processed baked goods, I have worked myself into a diabetic coma because I decided to wait until after my “quick trip” to Target for lunch.
On my way to check out, I experience my own version of the 12 Days of Christmas: 12 screaming children, 11 strangers pushing, 10 people ahead of me at the register, 9 temper tantrums, 8 frustrated mothers, 7 confused fathers, 6 for Team Edward, 5 for Team Jacob, 4 carts ramming into me, 3 couples fighting, 2 employees crying in the bathroom, and a pre-teen delinquent propositioning me.
When I finally get to the front of the line and put my box of Ho-Hos and CD on the conveyor belt (that glorious last stride to the finish line!), I briefly glance to my right and see two full rows of newly released music on display for my shopping convenience. Taylor Swift’s sweet little face stares at me. I take it personally. It’s either laugh or cry, so I laugh. Laugh first, cry later.
I check out and make the jaunt back to my car. A minivan full of rambunctious kids stalks me all the way. The driver glares at me when he realizes that the walk is too strenuous with all of those children. He drives away in a fury as if it’s my fault he didn’t partake in birth control.
I’ve already forgotten about the dirty river, so this time my other foot drowns in it. I jump into the car, buckle up, rip open my treats and take a moment to enjoy the taste of food. I’m interrupted by a row of honking vehicles impatient for my spot, so I back out and continue on my way. It’s not until a few hours later that I look in the mirror and realize that for the remainder of the day I’ve had Ho-Ho cream all over my face. Cue crying.
And this, dear readers, is why I prefer online shopping.