Coochie Cavity.

It's Black Friday. The infamous swindler, trying so desperately to be an actual holiday, when really it's just the raggedy red-headed step-child to Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is a day of gluttony. We don our over-sized sweatshirts and stretchy pants so we can eat ourselves into violently ill feelings of over-fulldom. And we throw on our thankful cloaks as we shove the turkeys in the oven, mash the yams, and stuff enough deviled eggs to tear up our bowels for weeks. The shotgun smatterings of thanks and gratefulness punch the sky as people speak out the things they are actually thankful for. This one's thankful for family. And this one's thankful for friends. That one's thankful for shelter. And that one over there is thankful for a full belly and a warm coat.

We've all got our gold and platinum coated cornucopias full of things we're thankful for.

I, for one, am thankful for foul mouths. Potty language. Uncanny expletives spilling out of unsuspecting lips.

I decided to spend Thanksgiving with my step family this year. A first for me in at least a decade. I was wary. Believe me. The nerves jittered out my fingertips as I waited for the shit to hit the fan. Because undoubtedly, it would. And it did.

My step family, that's really not even step anymore due to the wretched divorce of years past, is crazy. Legitimately and completely. But they never cease to entertain. This Thanksgiving my aunt and grandma did the cooking. They fought like stray alley cats the entire afternoon...and here are a few choice quotes that splashed across faces yesterday...

"Now it's all spread open like a little slut." - Voiced by my aunt in reference to our turkey...because my grandma put it in a pan that was too big.

"Stuff it in the coochie cavity." - A command made by my grandmother in reference to putting the stuffing inside the turkey.

"What the FUCK are you thinking?!" - Shouted by my grandmother at my aunt in reference to something my grandma obviously didn't find conducive to a happy thanksgiving. This was the ongoing joke of the day...startling at first, and then we had to make light of it. It's not time for the shit to hit just yet.

The food has been served. The meal has been consumed...and noooowwww it's time for the shit to hit...

We were just wrapping up what seemed to be a decently drama free meal...when we start talking about the annual tea party that the women put on at my grandma's church. My aunt is hosting a table, but my grandma isn't sitting at it...I foolishly raise the question of why...and why I'm not allowed to sit at my aunt's table...My aunt and my grandma have already bickered over who gets yours truly at their table. And then my grandma poops out of her mouth. Projectile. Right into the fan. Spraying us with the remnants of catastrophe.

"Your table's full of drug addicts." - Dripping with disdain, directed at my aunt, voiced by my grandmother.

At first my aunt refused to believe it. She thought my brother said it. Because my brother foolishly repeated it. No one actually heard it out of my grandma's mouth...but she owned up to it. Even after we all picked ourselves up off the floor and asked her if she really said it, she raised her hand and was like, "Yeah, I said it, not Robert."

Wow.

I had to take a few deep breaths as everyone scattered like roaches from the light. Then it was just me and my grandma left at the table, my aunt could be heard weeping in the kitchen. It was just as dramatic as it sounds. I was stunned. Overwhelmed. I'm normally able to play mediator between the emotional wrestlers of my family...but not this time. I had no words.

My aunt is a recovering addict. She's been clean and sober for a few years now, and a lot of her closest friends are recovering addicts as well. There's a lot of vulnerability there. Tenderness. Fragility. And for my grandma to let those boulderous words loose like some sort of emotionally charged Indiana Jones adventure, was a bit of an anomaly. My aunt wasn't up for the game and the words crushed her. I had no words to re-inflate her. My aunt is incredibly quick to forgive. I could learn a lesson from her beauty and grace.

And it's a good thing there was wine. I threw back a couple glasses and let the aged grapes caress my angsty nerves. And then I had some rent related drama with my roommate for a second. I watched the movie In Her Shoes, wept a bit. And then crashed out...because little did you know, I was about to embark on my first Black Friday expedition.

It's Black Friday. And this morning, I pried myself out of the morbid discomfort of all that is "futon slumber" and brushed my teeth. Grabbed a banana, tried to rouse my brother from sleep, to no avail, and hit the road, headed to Target.

I arrived at 3:30 am for a 4:00 am opening. The line wrapped around the building. To be expected. I opened my stride and briskly walked to the end of the line, and patiently awaited the opening of those big glass doors, that I couldn't even see. I stood in the cold with my sweaties on and my big poofy coat, scarf and gloves. By myself. Giant smile plastered on my face as I surveyed my surroundings. Here I am, like an ant in a line back behind the building with the dumpsters and the desperate deal-stealers. It seriously feels like stealing, that's how epic these deals are said to be. So here I am, book in hand, feigning disinterest in the conversations spilling out all around me. People asking people, "What are you going for first?" "You went to Toys R Us?" "How was Kohl's?" "Best Buy has a SWAT team?"

Apparently 17.5 million households had people shopping on black friday last year. This year it's estimated that half of America would be out shopping on black friday. That's when the unsuspecting expletives start spilling out of my mouth.

I got in the store and grabbed a cart. And immediately assumed the position of a chicken with its head sheared off. Thankfully I've got my head safely stowed in the front part of the cart, you know the place where you tuck your child so they can't touch anything except you? Yeah, well hypothetically my head is belted in there, propped up on the three dollar toaster, which is what I was "going for" this morning. Yeah, I know. Pathetic. I also got three dozen picture frames, a vacuum, several box office smash hit dvds, some tank tops, headphones, and some other unmentionable Christmas gifties.

Thanksgiving is for over-consumption of the belly. Black Friday is for over-consumption of the Christmas present closet. The trunk of my car belched as I stuffed it full of consumerist goodies.

I scraped a few ankles, bruised some shins, and shed a bit of blood during this blackest of fridays. My bank account took a beating as well. These aren't exaggerations. Somehow my finger was bleeding when I left the building, my shin was banged up from running myself into my own cart...I think that was due to the chicken head syndrome discussed earlier, and I definitely ran into some ankles with my awkward red cart whilst trying to maneuver my way amongst the masses.

But it was all for the sake of experience. I'd never done it before. And I'm not certain I'll do it again. But I thoroughly enjoyed myself. And a John Lithgow look alike just came into the coffee shop I'm perched in. So yeah.

Happy Black Friday to you and yours.

Oh PS..I purchased a hot pink full body spandy suit at a thrift store just moments ago. I'm going to wear it in my next marathon. Get excited.