If there's a silver lining to the holiday spent with my in-laws, it's that I won't be fooled into going to one of those stupid door-buster sales where I get up before the sun decides to rise and stand in line with a hundred other people only to find that what I've come for is already sold out.
Yes. I've been there before. I won't say that I won't be there again, because I'm kind of dumb like that.
So, last year, I went to Best Buy, to pick up a laptop for my wife.
Never go to Best Buy. Always look in the box, Perry the Platypus, and never go to Best Buy for a door-buster sale.
Last year, some Eaters of Cock decided to camp out the night before Best Buy opened the door for their fantastic deals. Best Buy, in their infinite wisdom, hands out these papers to the first thirty people in line. These papers are vouchers so that you may go into the store and purchase whatever it is that's on that piece of paper.
Aye, but there's a rub. The first thirty people will take all the vouchers, go into the store, and then sell the vouchers to some stupid fuck--like me--for $20. Cash. When the day gets late, then the price drops to $10. I know this, because I saw the laws of supply-and-demand work themselves out while waiting for the privilege to actually get ahold of the computer and laptop that I decided to buy.
I realize it's probably a terrible thing to think, but I can only assume that these folks were all in the same gang. I can only assume that because they all wore the same clothes. And they all reported to some Eastern European guy who got really upset when the manager decided to check his enormous shopping cart filled with electronics that he tried to wheel out of the building against his receipt. Whoa, buddy, how awful that she didn't want you to rob the store blind and then resell the shit on eBay to fund whatever evil cartel you're running.
Anyway, I ended up with a happy little laptop for my wife and I got the computer on which I have composed this lovely Latin lesson.
However, not again. Not this year. And, if this shit happens to you, where you've got your eyes on something you really want and someone steals the last one out from under you, fire this off in their direction:
Pronounced: "Oat ray-cay-day cahn-ick-yoo-lah, oat tay kie-dahm!"
My advice? Stay in, sleep off the meal(s) from yesterday, watch some football. If you're a particularly sadistic sonuvabitch, Stanford and Notre Dame ought to be a lovely blood-letting. And, it could be a certain Decided Schematic Tactician's last time on the sidelines for the University of Our Lady of the Lake. Double blood-sport! Woo!