I need some medication

Does anyone else walk into a mall/dept store/any store during the Holidays and have mini heart palpitations? I do. Not in a bad way. As soon as I see the crowds hustling and bustling, hear the Christmas music playing, smell the cinnamon nuts cooking in that little corner booth, see the fake Santa (who is a dirty, creepy old man who I've never trusted), and set my gaze upon all the Christmas deals, I about go into Cardiac arrest. The boots are all marked down to 50% off. I start to shake like an old alcoholic, stepping into a liquor store for the first time in ten years. It's buy one scarf, get another half off. My eyes dialate faster than a zombie going into a deathly rage. Jeans are marked down to practicaly free. My pulse races like a dr who cheated in medical school, doing a brain transplant on his first day. My brain quickly turns to mush and I turn into a tornado trapped in a snow globe.

I can't think with logic or reason, all that I'm concerned about is snatching up the prettiest things before the person next to me does with their greasy, turkey leftover covered hands. They don't deserve such pretty things. I do. Whatever the sales person says looks good on me, I have to have (yes, I know they are spoon feeding me a mouth full of lies, but that skirt REALLY did look good on me...) I don't have a single thing like any of the beautiful things that are brand new for the winter season, and everything on sale is too much of a deal to let slip thru my fingers. Plus that funny looking girl was looking at those wonderful, most amazing pair of peep toe boots that were custom made by some miracle just for my feet. Her feet are too big and smelly to make them look as beautiful as they are, therefore all these glorious things must be mine. I snap and grab and fight and fake smile at people who are coveting the things I have. There isn't much time, so I skip the dressing room, and move on to the next unsupspecting victim.

The sound of the cash registers ring like cheerful little bells, like a Christmas carol really, and I hop merrily onto the next store, my bags accumulate faster than a hoarder's collection of porcelain cat statues gather dust.

Most people hate setting foot inside a store during this cheerful, Christmas-tree-smelling time of year, but I absolutely love it. I love stores any time of year, but during the days between Black Friday and the 26th of December, there is magic in the air and happiness and joy and love and peace on earth. And there are sales galore.

I storm my way thru each store, the smell of new sweaters and the feeling of Noel just sing, that it is in fact, Christmas time. And don't worry, I'm not just shopping for myself, if that is what you are thinking. Thats only a little more than half of the fun. Buying presents for others at this time isn't a hassle or a stress, no, its more reason to go to the stores full of Christmas magic more frequently. Plus thats when all the cheap, random gift booths are placed strategically in the hallway of the mall, and who doesn't want a $12, ninja-pirate, dual action authentic sword for Christmas? I know my friends do.

The only damper to this magical time, is the lotion salesman. You know who I'm talking about: the "Dead Sea" out of this world lotion, that is supposed to make your hands softer than butter on a baby rabbit laying on a bed of silk. And those coniving sales people from India or Arabia or somewhere, who, everytime you walk by, with a snikering gleam in their eye, ask almost innocently enough for you to believe them, if they can show you something. They want to put their greasy lotion on your hands and hope that it will change your life, just enough, so that you will think to yourself that you will die if you do not have this stuff. Do NOT believe them. Its a hoax. Seeing what they have to show you means putting ALL your bags down, having some strange man with an accent so thick you could cut it with a plastic spoon, grab your hands and rub cream all over them. Then you have to tell them how you do not want that lotion, even tho your hands are as soft as rose petals, and you stand there bumbling on like an idiot, while word vomit excuses pour out of your mouth. Hopefully to them, your accent is just as thick as theirs, and your excuse of how you are so broke right now, works...as you pick up your thousands of shopping bags and sprint to the closest store. You probably weren't even planning on going into that store, but then because of these lotion people you do, find more sales, and come out with more bags, and those sales people watch you sheepishly cower into another store, with death glare lasers in their eyes, knowing you really aren't broke trying to pay your own way thru law school cuz your parents are disabled and unemployed, and the only job you can get is mopping gas station floors at 3 a.m. They won't believe you and you'll feel guilty and for a minute or two, the high from the shopping is dampered and you want to cry. Just save yourself the trouble and ignore the lotion sales people's eyes. Don't look in them. They are medusa-they turn you to stone if you meet their gaze.

After all the money is gone, and I have stripped the stores of all the fabulous finds, I juggle all of my bags and walk to my snow covered car in the soft moonlight, as the stars twinlkle above, and the snow gently falls and kisses my cheeks and nose. I don't mind snow at this time. Its part of the magic. I don't pay attention to the complaining soccer moms barking orders to their families, or to the sceaming whining children who are afraid of Santa (I don't blame them) and who want those ridiculous, fancy spangled, new toys that I never dreamed of when I was a child (what happened to a simple Barbie?), or to the fathers foul swear words, who know they'll be broke til Labor Day. Instead, you can almost hear a choir singing "Silent Night". Oh wonderful Christmas, how I love you.

Just waking up on Christmas morning, and seeing all of the wonderful, lovely things you found, wrapped up so lovingly, in lovely green and red cartoon reindeer decorated wrapping paper, just makes the season all the more wonderful.

I think it just may really be, the most wonderful time of the year.

PS-And there is nothing wrong with saying all of the things you bought for yourself are gifts from "Santa". He could be real you know, and this is the only time he isn't a just a dirty, creepy old man, who wants you to sit on his lap so he can give you a ''present''.