Yesterday, I learned firsthand that Black Friday is the official beginning of Armageddon. This year, experts estimated that 114.6 million zealous shoppers flooded malls and complexes across America to buy toys, clothes, gadgets, and to ask their husbands if these pants make their butt look big.

Which is the most dreaded question a woman can ask a man. There is no correct way for a man to answer the does-my-butt-look-big question without offending his wife, or at the very least, losing his front teeth.

This is true even if he says, “NO! YOUR BUTT DOESN’T LOOK BIG!”

Or “ABSOLUTELY NOT, SWEET CHEEKS!”

Or “YOUR BUTT IS SO SMALL, IT LOOKS LIKE YOUR THIGHS START UNDER YOUR CHIN.”

No matter how he responds, this man’s wife will get huffy and say something like, “Oh yeah? Then why did you pause so long before you answered?” Whereupon the man will be dragged outside and shot.

Anyway, I wasn’t supposed to be at the mall yesterday, but my wife cannot turn down Black Friday deals. She is

obsessed with them. And it doesn’t matter what they are selling, if it’s marked down, she is going to own it in three colors.

Once, she bought a truckload of Campbell’s condensed cream of celery soup simply because it was on clearance. This struck me as an odd thing to do.

Never in the history of our marriage can I recall either of us saying, “Gee, I’d like a bowl of cream of celery soup.” And here’s why: (a) celery soup is meant for baking weird casseroles normal people never eat, and (b) it sucks.

But the bottom shelves of our pantry are loaded with expired clearance celery soup cans that are so old they say “I Like Ike” on the backs of the labels.

Black Friday was a mess. We arrived at the mall at eight in the morning. And when I say “arrived at…