I hate Black Friday shopping. I’ve been exactly once, and I would rather have my lady bits scoured with a rusty Brillo pad than endure that shit again.

For one, there are the people. Furthermore, there are the people. Finally, the fucking people.

Too many people in one place willing to trample one another to death for a flat screen TV or a Susie Poops a Lot just isn’t my jam. You couldn’t get me out of the house and into a retail store on Black Friday even if they were offering Pamela Anderson circa 1994 full body transformations for $1. (And believe me, Pammy was HAWT back then. Google it.)

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for saving a buck here or there. But Jesus Christ, I have a limit, and other than wine that costs under $3, Black Friday shopping is it.

Instead, here’s how I plan to spend my Black Friday, every bit of which is better than shopping:

Spiking my coffee with leftover bourbon and Bailey’s.

Hiding in the bathroom, taking hits off an e-cig while my kids watch their third movie on Netflix.

Sneaking pieces of yesterday’s pie and then blaming it on my 6 yo when somebody finally catches on.

Refreshing Facebook 1,753 times.

Thinking about starting to address holiday cards.

Trying to figure out Twitter.

Pretending I’m going to clean the shitstorm that is my house after Thanksgiving.

Reading the first 3 pages of Gone Girl.

Watching unhealthy numbers of crime drama episodes.

Contemplating changing my kids out of their pajamas and into real world clothes.

Inhaling leftover green bean casserole over the sink.

Pinching my belly flubber in front of the mirror with my head tilted to the side in disbelief that this is what my body has been reduced to.

Staring at the abominable laundry pile in exasperation.

Calculating how long until my anxiety meds take effect.

Wondering if a dime bag is still a thing.

Picking my nails.

Ignoring the dog hair accumulating on the den couch.

Opening the fridge door multiple times in a 5 min span and staring inside, willing something healthy AND delicious to manifest itself.

Yelling at my kids to stop wrestling near the baby.

Pondering how I should have polished my grandmother’s antique silver tea set 6 months ago.

Speculating about whether or not anyone uses antique silver tea sets anymore.

Pinning a bunch of shit I’ll never actually do on Pinterest.

Perusing Urban Dictionary for terms related to “dirty sanchez” and “donkey punch.”

Consuming far too much cheap red wine.