The Holidays

I had to get out of that store. Holiday rage, or anti-holiday rage was about to set in. I say anti-holiday rage in regards to the rage and sometimes violent behavior in response to the rage and sometimes violent behavior exhibited by mostly, and I hate to do it, but i must stereotype, mostly...soccer-moms. You know who they are; those perky and bouncy moms with the blond pony-tails sticking out of the back of pink ball-caps. They have black work-out pants with the white stripes, sneakers, a half-baked smile, and glassy eyes. Their mini-van has those white stick-figure families on the back window. There is no dad there, or the dad stick figure is relegated to the position behind the family dog. On the back door is always the white soccer ball sticker.

It all started when I drove through the Wegmans parking lot close to my house. Ok, I procrastinated about buying veggies for a tray to take to Mom's for Thanksgiving, but I am a guy and that sort of behavior is acceptable. The store was busy, real busy.  I spotted a car backing out of a spot in front of me and waited of the old guy to finish. I moved up to fill the hole and around the corner at the far end, one of those mini-vans, you can spot them a mile away, wheeled around the end and like a vision from a magic carpet, she was in that spot. I rolled down my window with my best "what-the-fuck" look, and promptly got a "fuck off" and a one finger salute from the driver. The shoping trip didn't get any better.

Inside, another one (yes, I'm stereotyping and will continue to do so), was running though the store, running, pushing the cart and tossing this head of lettuce, that bag of chips, a live lobster, I didn't see what else, she was out of sight in a flash. Another, that damn pony tail bouncing double time, it would be worn out before she got done, actually ran into my cart and politely asked me to get the fuck out of her way. I didn't, but I smiled when I said no.

As "Black Friday" approaches and these soccer moms, others too, take off work, lose a hundred, maybe two hundred dollars in wages to make the ultimate sacrifice for their darling little girl who is waiting at home, tapping her foot impatiently to make sure her damn mom gets the right I--PAD--PHONE--POD--PED--P--WHATEVER,  (she just knows mom will screw this up and embarrass her into becoming a recluse the rest of her miserable adolescence) and save fifty bucks. So, as this iconic day approaches and passes, I have to look forward to Christmas when each soccer mom who did screw up the Black Friday deal, panics and in desperation, runs amok and blindly smashes through the next 30 days trying to make it up to her darling "next-to-be" soccer star. Meanwhile, Dad is either living in his mother's basement, or drunk in the garage trying to stay out of the way...so am I. It's going to be a long holiday season. Good cheer, and good luck.