"Out of the Roaster and Into the Frying Pan: Oh, the Joyous Holidays" (Tuesday)

(Start with "Monday" if you can. If you don't, you won't see the explanation of why I wrote about holidays last week and am doing so again this week. You'll think I started drinking last Monday, blacked out on Tuesday and just now woke up- thinking Thanksgiving is in two days. Now's also a great time to subscribe to my blog. What do you mean "why?"? I don't know why. How come when car dealers yell at us on the radio: "Now's a great time to buy!" nobody ever asks why?...Anyway, it's easy, fast, simple, quick, and I'll annoy you only once a week with some great updates and info at the email address of your choice.)

So, what were we talking about? Oh right. How Thanksgiving's over but the holidays are just beginning.

What obviously makes the holidays most depressing for those going through infertility is that the only thing you really want can't be bought during Freaky Friday (or whatever the hell they call that dark day after Thanksgiving), and tossed into a four dollar gift bag.

The only upside (and there probably is only one, and it barely is an upside) is that when you are desperately trying to create a family, you realize the true worthlessness of all the garbage people trample each other for at 4 AM.

I'm not a shopper. I hate shopping. I know. Women are supposed to love shoes and shoe shopping. Yet I pride myself in getting in and out of "Pay-less" on the 15/5 program: Pay under 15 dollars and leave in under 5 minutes. Okay, I don't factor in the time it takes to find an employee anywhere in the store and coerce them into coming to the register. Apparently they don't work on commission.

And as for the crowds:  I can deal with crowds if there's something worth dealing with a crowd for.

For me, that would be, maybe, the Olympics. And let me clarify: By "The Olympics" I mean "THE Olympics"; not a bunch of jerks hurdling over each other in the middle of the night to get 12% off a smartphone.    

Every year, bargain hunters get stabbed, stepped on, spit on. So the week before Thanksgiving, every time I see a commercial boasting: "Stores open this Friday at 3AM!" I think: "Yeah, good luck with that."

I can't think of anything worse than standing in the cold, dark, night huddling together for warmth with a thousand of my closest total stranger friends, with only the light of the "Best Buy" sign to guide me. Oh wait. I can think of something worse. Being the poor schmuck with the key. 

So when exactly does the whole "good will towards man" thing start for these people? I imagine sometime after they've  dug their nails into somebody's neck to keep them from reaching for Jessica Simpson's whatever she sells.

The one benefit to the entrances to the stores being jammed non-stop: It leaves no room for the girl scout cookie concessions to reemerge for the holiday season. The girl scouts...with their stage moms:  "There's an empty parking spot. Quick, go stand in it! You can make your next sale before they even get out of the car!"

Listen I gotta go. My radio station is giving away tickets to David Hasselhoff's Holiday on ice to the eighth caller. What if only six people call?

I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.