Written in Ink

My eighty-year-old father is getting ready to go to work. He has to be at Macy's at midnight (thanks to Massachusetts Blue Laws, not only did I not get to eat Stoned Wheat Thins on Sundays growing up but also our stores cannot legally open on certain holidays).

Who in the fuck is going shopping at midnight? First of all, big ticket items for Black Friday? There's maybe two of them in store. No rain checks. Aside from that, who cares? Man, as material a girl as I am, I've never been into the gift-giving jerkoff of Christmas. Who are these weirdos who care about presents? I'm guessing they're the same bitches that go on "Say Yes to the Dress."

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