So This Is Why They Call It "Black Friday"...

Thanksgiving. So we meet again.

It's the season for gluttony and watching "It's Thanksgiving, Charlie Brown!". But I have to admit, I did partake in both activities. And no, I didn't feel bad.

Thanksgiving for my family is usually quiet and low-key. Our tradition goes as follows: we help make the food, we eat the food, say what we're thankful for this year and then go into a tryptophan-induced coma. Is it conventional? No. But it works.

But this particular Thanksgiving was different. This year, I was going to endure my first Black Friday shopping adventure.

After our hour-long nap, my mom and I convened to buy a paper to look over the ads to plan our route. Little did we know, trying to find one on Thanksgiving would turn into a two-hour goose chase. I knew this was a sign of things to come.

We plan what stores to swarm, get a team compiled of my mom, my godmother, her 10-year-old daughter Emily, and I. The meeting time was 7 a.m. (even though Emily insisted we meet at 3 a.m.) in Folsom. I was pumped.

The excitement went away when I woke up at 5 a.m. I don't even remember the last time I left the house and it was still dark outside. A trip to Starbucks was definitely in order, even though it took almost 20 minutes to get my precious caffeine.

Fast forward to Folsom. We start at a small shopping center that conveniently had all the shops we wanted to hit. What wasn't convenient was that it started to pour rain and I hadn't worn the most appropriate attire. I blame the weather man for telling me lies the night before.

After hitting several stores to no avail, we go to the mother of all Black Friday sales: Target. Little did I know that I would have to bust some elbows trying to make my way through the store. Not only did it look like a tornado had gone through the store, but the amount of rude old women fighting over Wii games was too much for me to handle. We left to the outlets in hopes of better luck.

Bad idea.

The place was swarming with the most boorish people I have ever seen. So much for this season being jolly. Plus, I was feeling the effects of 9 hours straight of shopping.

As I sat down on a bench in the Puma outlet to rest my weary feet among the mass of people trying on ghastly overpriced shoes, a young couple decided it would be a great idea to scoot me off the bench in order to get some cuddle time in.

Enough was enough.

I got up, gave the couple a dirty look and blatantly told the two to "get a room". I stormed out of the store, whispering obscenities under my breath, which led to a loud 5 minute rant to my godmother. Why must people go out of their way to make others miserable? And there's a time and a place for cupcaking. The Puma outlet on Black Friday definitely not being one of them.

I took a deep breath, and realized a negative attitude was not going to get me anywhere. Plus Emily was nice enough to buy me a soda with her own money (which was a BIG deal). I regrouped and proceeded to Banana Republic. Hey, everything in the store was 50 percent off. You can't beat that!

The shopping day ended with a spontaneous thunder storm, which to me was a symbol that we should cut our Black Friday loses and drown our sorrows (and hurt feet) in beer and pizza. Sadly, the pizza was probably the highlight of my Black Friday.

Would I do it over again? Maybe. If I was ensured I got my coffee in less than 20 minutes and I wouldn't want to shank someone prison style in an outlet mall.

My Life, The Rollercoaster

"If I don't get this job, I swear I'm going to punch a baby."

It seemed like an eternity driving on I-80 going to the Contractors State License Board, the location of my latest job interview. Nine Inch Nails blaring in my car, the bass making my old '97 RAV4 shake like a tin can to drown my chaotic mind.

My mind was racing with the million-and-one things going on that day. This interview, a phone interview from unemployment (which I was dead set on getting off of. Holding my check for 3 weeks for saying I sent my claim "late"? No ma'am.), going to class (which my homework was still not done for) and then taking my dog to the vet. Yeah, multitasking!

It was 10:30 a.m. when I pulled into the small parking lot. Great, 30 minutes to study what I had written the night before: a page of all my star qualities that made me a shoo-in for the student assistant position.

10:35 a.m., I decided to play on my phone instead.

I walked into the vast white lobby around 10:45 a.m. I wanted to get it over with, and getting to level 10 on Brick Breaker got kind of tedious after a while. I got my visitor's pass and took a seat waiting anxiously for whoever it was to come fetch me from the boring blue and gray reception area. I can only look at portraits of ugly old white men trying to find solace in them for so long.

Before I knew it, the interview commenced.

"Tell us a little about yourself."

"What are your strengths?"

"How do you see yourself fitting into our office?"

All the while, the inner voice is going, "S@%$, I don't remember what I wrote down!"

With a smile and a handshake, it was over. I looked at my cellphone and only had 30 minutes to book it home. At least the drive didn't seem as perilous.

I came home to dog vomit on the carpet and my dog looking like death itself. Great. The dog totally took away my post-job-interview high. I text my mom to let her know the developments. She was on her way home.

The phone rings. The the timid lady from unemployment gives me a slap on the wrist for "turning in my claim late". Really? Goes to show our tax dollars at work for wasting five minutes of my life with a "warning". I'm still bitter.

Mom comes home and looked at the dog, who by now is laying on a Winnie the Pooh towel along with her favorite toy I had provided for her and foaming at the mouth. We loaded her up into the car and speculated the causes of her ailment.

Stomach flu? Food allergy? Stress? The possibilities were endless.

All theories were blown away when the vet came in and gave us the diagnosis.

Parvo Virus.

My mother and I just began to cry uncontrollably. We thought it was certain death for our beloved dog. And when I looked at the clock, homework and class just didn't matter any more.

But, oh, what $300 and some begging can get you. They sent us home with some IV fluid bags to give to the dog, which meant we had to stick 18-gauge needles into her every six hours. Yuck!

We came home. Collectively defeated. I hoped the next day would be better.

And lo-and-behold, it was. The next day I got the job, I got my unemployment check in the mail, found out the class was canceled and my dog has since made a full recovery.

You just have to roll with the punches. No matter how hard they are.

Leah Garchik, the Original Gossip Girl

With everything going on in the city of San Francisco, it can be a little chaotic. This includes the people and the places, but there's nothing like a little about-town gossip and eavesdropping to make things even more interesting. Thankfully, Leah Garchik puts all of this and more into her daily column for the San Francisco Chronicle.

Garchik, a Brooklyn native and "a woman who has never owned a car with push-button windows", is married to her husband, Jerry, and has two sons, Sam and Jacob. Although her educational background is not clear, she states that she "...typed to put [her] husband through Harvard Law School".

She began her career at The Chronicle in 1984 where she began writing her daily gossip column. Garchik's column has earned notoriety and acclaim with being named "Best Items Column" in the country in 1992 by the National Society of Newspaper Columnists and being named "Best Columnist" by San Francisco Bay Area Publicity Club for 1998, 2001 and 2004. She was also named "Best Gossip" in a San Francisco Chronicle readers' poll.

Garchik has a no-holds-barred approach to her column, letting the subject of her written assault make their bed and Garchik making them sleep in it. She also states that "the further away they are, the nastier I am." This can be exemplified in her latest column about author Stephen Elliot:

"Stephen Elliott has been promoting his newest book, a memoir called The Adderall Diaries, with a series of readings at private homes around the country. Many guests have never been to a book reading before, and Elliott calls the tour 'like a giant sociology study.' (His Bay Area readings start this week.)

'Last night in Fort Lauderdale,' he e-mailed last week, 'I made out with a girl at the home event who made a point of telling me she hadn't bought my book. I think she thought that since we were making out I would give her a book, and I felt that because we were making out she would certainly buy one.'"

What also makes her column so unique is that not only does she let you live vicariously through her in order to get in on exclusive events and get the skinny on local and international celebrities, but she lets the reader themselves in on the fun. Garchik's column includes reader-submitted quotes from eavesdropping around town. This particular aspect has become so popular that she's compiled a book titled Real Life Romance filled with bits of romance advice overheard around San Francisco.

It's important as a writer to be versatile, and Garchik brings just that with her column. One can't be too sure where she'll end up. One time she could be at an opera performance, critiquing an actress' choice of dress, to a charity event among such stars as Nicholas Cage and Maria Menounos. I mean, if you consider them stars, anyway.

The random nature of Garchik's column brings a breath of fresh air amidst a time where columns are dominated by news and politics. She brings fun and a sense of accessibility to her writing, which seems to bring readers coming back for more. Who doesn't want to see public figures cut down to size once and a while?

And let's be honest, a little gossip never hurt anybody either.