Shopping as Hell

Christmas shopping in NYC is a fate worse than death.
Here are some pointers on how to survive.

1) HATE. Begin with hating everyone and everything. Hold hatred close to your heart from the moment you step out of your door. This way you'll be used to the feeling in advance. To be surprised with a feeling of hatred can be overwhelming, so be prepared before you set out. Imagery can help. Visualize hell.

2) Heal guards. Why oh why are all the nanny's shopping with their baby strollers? Do they not realize that they are fat enough as is? Do they not understand that this is NOT Wal-mart, that these are the streets of New York and they are CROWDED? Am I invisible standing in the aisle? Am I invisible on the Sidewalk? Do you really (really) think that hitting me with your oh-so-fashionable Bugaboo (trademark goes here) is going to make me step into traffic? Well, I might. Take that, Upper West Side! Take that Midtown! Take that, Soho! I recommend heel guards. Preferably with spikes. As I do my shopping sashay through the streets of New York I will not hesitate to pop your tire.

3) Credit Cards. Lots of them. Why don't stores have change? Is everyone living on credit? Are all these rich people poor? Or are they just in it for the miles? What happened to cash? And, more importantly, why, when I hand it to you (you nice store clerk, idiot) do you look at me like I am out of my freaking mind? Like, oh, I am so sorry, we can make change for a ten....
So do yourself a favor and stack that plastic, cuz cash sure ain't king here.

4) Hot Coffee. I recommend that every few blocks you stop in a deli and buy a cup of piping hot coffee, with milk. I swear, the milk is important, you'll see. Don't drink it, the coffee's not for you. It's for the jostlers. It's for the pushers. It's for the people who (so like those stroller-pushers) think that I am completely invisible. So when they bump, bump back. Only get 'em good with a hot cup of coffee. But you've got to have the saccharine attitude to go with it. You have to really be sorry. You have to coo. And ask for their address. Offer to have their coat cleaned (don't worry, they always say no). But then as you walk away and the coffee dries in the crips air, you can revel in your disaster. That's where the milk comes in. Chances are the coast won't go to the cleaners today, or tomorrow, or until, probably, after Christmas. And then it will stink. And all of your Christmas shopping will be done.



That's it for now, just a few tips to get you started. But I'd welcome anymore, because there's still more Christmas horror for me to spread.