Yesterday was quite the day. I thought we had a bad water heater, since we had a nice little leak in our utility room. The plumber got there and….takes one look and says “It’s not your water heater. I’m afraid you’re screwed.” I feel so dirty. Paying $55 for a sweaty guy to tell me I’m f**d. Not pleasant. So…the choices were either, tap the concrete myself and using an $8 part to fix it (which is assuming a lot of dexterity on my part with tools that just ain’t there)…..call the water company and get the line insurance (Which thankfully we already have, so we didn’t have to scam the insurance company-whew)….or pay the plumber guy $13,000 to fix it. Right now we’re going with option 2 and gonna see how that pans out.
This is the part of the story where I would normally go into the big rant/retelling of my recent very VERY disturbing customer service experience with my local pharmacy and my insurance company. I’ve decided I’ve told the story enough and don’t really want to get into it here. But I just want to say…why is it that pharmacists and insurance companies feel the need to f**k with people that have clinical depression?? Don’t you think we’re already going through enough without you messing with our heads, too??
OK. The bright side of this was that the pharmacy found their sac and took care of the problem. So to celebrate that..we decided to head to Bob’s for some good ole country grub and then to the thrift store.
That’s right boys and girls…this is, indeed, a thrift post. While not omnipotent, I have in fact, heard your prayers (and in the process, quite possibly, used a few too many commas).
Yesterday was 1/2 price day at ye olde Ohio Thrift. And we hit the door with about an hour to go before closing.
Now, normally when thrifting, I have a set route….toys first…then t-shirts…then display case…then knick knacks…then sporting goods…then dead electronics…and then one more pass to see if there’s anything I missed.
However, on the last Weds of the month…all bets are off for the simple reason that I am usually looking to score some deals for yours truly (and I did….5 prs of pants…7 shirts and a nice bag….Nancy got a bunch of stuff, too..and some comfy shoes…total out the door…$45.Rawk.).
So, um, yeah. The route varied a bit. The tidbits below are in no particular order (as usual).
This was in the bag that I bought. Apparently a former middleschool baseball coach fulfilled his “supplmental duties.” Not sure what those might be.
Well…I think I figured out why they have eating issues. Normally you have to actually open your lips to let the food pass.
The progression of the lowering of self-esteem. On the first, they actually look like healthy normal girls. By the end, they look like a product of marketing…afraid to eat and not wanting to look ‘fat.’ I bet they still look at that first cover and cringe. And so do we, but for different reasons.
This is one of my favorite ONJ album covers. I have the single and the gatefold of it. And sure…I may have more ONJ albums than the average hetero male…but I swear it’s purely for the music.
I love the tapes from RadioShack. This one offers “Realistic Low Noise” (which as everyone knows is much better than that fake sounding low noise isht you get with other tapes).
How is it that Paula looks younger in the DVD that’s 20 years older? That Cardio Dance must really work!! Oh never mind. I see…it’s her ‘New Package.’ That would explain it.
Are you the keymaster?
Where good…er…mediocre electronics go to die. I used to watch the old Jonny Weismueller Tarzan movies and invariably there would be one where the white man tracks the dying elephant to the elephant graveyard. And I remember how Tarzan was always so sad to see it. That’s kinda what this is like for me.
This was in the scary knick knack aisle. And all I can say is….um…no.
If by ‘crafty’ you mean ‘a kit from a teacher supply score meant to teach marginally retarded kids how to make something they can sell at the bake sale so they can all get seatbelts installed in the short bus’…then yes, this is indeed a crafty frame.
I got all excited. At first I thought this was the fabled ‘lost episode’ of Monster Garage. Demmit! Foiled again!!
Clearly this person was not a grammar expert or the redundancy of “& more” and “& less” would have been omitted.
I think it plays Pong.
This won’t end well.
Um. A statue of a chick kissing a stem. I don’t even know where to go with this one. We are delving in to the weirdness of the knick knack aisle. Last night there was clearly a lot of time spent in that area because of the sheer ‘WTF’ factor that I was hit with.
This reminded me of a party I was at one time. There was this chick passed out on the couch…all of a sudden she rolls up and shouts “Jello Shots! WOOOOOO!” and then falls back on the couch. Ahh. Good times, good times.
This picture left intentionally broken (which won’t be as funny when the link decides to start working again, but for now…hey, what’cha gonna do?)
Woohoo!!! The rocking horse winner!
You are the Champ of being the Terminator 2 badguy!
The guy in the back is thinking….”I wonder if the baker is using whole grain flour or not.Bread would be nice.”
And the baker is thinking….”I haven’t killed a hobo in a long time and I’m about due…if only I could find a drifter.Hmmmm.”
OK. These things are weird. Clearly they are a set of some kind. There’s a little toothpick hole at the side of all of their mouths. I don’t know if it’s some sort of ritual mutilation or there are pieces missing or what…but it was freaky. And I’m not sure what the Dentist spit bowl has to do with anything either.
AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! Ok. After the initial shock, I wondered, “who labels their pockets with the word ‘Cookies’??” I know what you’re saying ‘Todd, you idjit, it’s a cookie jar’. Oh but it’s not. It’s about 6 inches high and the head doesn’t come off. And if I have to put cookies in any other orfice, it is clearly NOT a cookie jar.
GAAAAAAHHH!!!!! Your Clazy Crown Styah Kung Fu is clushing my dlagon styah!!!!! (NOTE-For maximum effect, the previous statements must be read aloud, and slowly and deliberately).
After Robin Hood got the fair Maid Marianne, Friar Tuck was left all alone. Again.
How do you have a conversation with your elementary school aged child about what a ‘Grrrl’ actually is? Well, you don’t. You just hope they figure it out as they become womyn.
And 3 eyes and two mouths. What the hell kind of loving is THAT??
After “The Wall” the faceless students could only get bit parts.
I could just say I’m allergic to cats. But alleric to crap is probably more apt here.
THIS is the sweet bowling shirt!!! AND it’s already got the neon stitching making it perfect for the Galaxy Bowl on Saturday night!!!!
I guess the Shriners just can’t make a decent shirt. Circuses they’re OK at. Shirts..not so much.
So, all in all a good thrift session cancels out the shittiness of the day that led up to it. Honestly I was feeling much better after the country-fried Steak at Bob Evan’s. The Thrift was just icing on the cake.
Until next time, thrift happy!