HE-shirts

Last week I wandered into the middle of a big $5 tee-shirt sale over at Threadless.
Longtime browser, first time buyer, as they used to say in the letters pages.

My tee shirts fall into two broad categories, Artifacts Of A Young Comic Geek and Boring Solid Colors from the Gap Sale Rack

Group A is older than hell and has been mostly co-opted by the wife. She loves anything soft, and it doesn't get much softer than a 15 year old tee shirt. Seeing her wandering around in a gory vintage Hard Boiled or Sin City tee amuses my inner nerd and confuses most everyone else, but once she claims a shirt it's out of circulation- "what are you doing wearing my shirt?" becomes the operative phrase. So Group A has shrunk dramatically over the years.

Group B doesn't inspire much enthusiasm- I mean, they're there when you need something to wear, but I never come across one in the drawer and think "Fun! This one's perfect for today!".

Threadless splits the sartorial difference between a closet full of longboxes & memorabilia and a generic air conditioned cube.

These lovelies should be arriving monday:

Neko

on the late night.

Thrift SCORE

So we picked up a neat new butter knife yesterday and I noted that now we needed a neat butter tray to compliment.

Visited a tiny local thrift store to check out the books this afternoon, and voila!



Three bucks.
Can't beat that with a stick.

Title of the Day

Family Circle Great Ground Beef Recipes

It also has a lovely cover, if only the scanner was working...

semi-gross memory

One of mom's boyfriends referred to ladies derrieres as "poopers".

As in, "she's got a nice tight pooper!"


*shudder*

Big Brass Ones

I rarely answer the phone but I picked up the other day because Fuss was napping and I didn't know where the machine's volume was set.

It was a slick fellow from some house painting company that had given mom an estimate. When he asked if she was available (hah!) I took a page from the wife's book and said "No, she died last year. This is her son".

This only briefly threw him off script and moments later he was delivering a full-throated sales pitch, like a racehorse swiftly recapturing their form after some jostling out of the gate.

I listened in slack-jawed amazement.
Capitalism writ large, ladies and gentlemen.
He wasn't as objectively disgusting as the many predators that descended because she died, but for some reason I found his cheery obliviousness more depressing.

true customer tales: crazy as a loon edition

obviously crazy lady wanders up to counter.

crazy lady:
I REALLY need to use a phone man. I REALLY need to know where a phone booth is.

me (wishfully thinking that being helpful will stave off the insanity):
There's one at the Chamber of Commerce- down the street til you hit the mission, turn left about half a block.

crazy lady:
I been looking for a phone booth ALL DAY man, I really need a PHONE BOOTH.

me:
-repeats directions-

crazy lady, looking desperate:
-looks at ceiling and half-yells something incomprehensible-

me:
-goes back to pricing books and ignoring her-

crazy lady wanders halfway to door, turns around and says in a snotty little kid's voice:
So I just go down to the mission, then turn left and then fall in love, RIGHT?

Me, in my stern voice:
You need to leave. Right now.

crazy lady:
But I don't know the ADDRESS, I been looking for the chamber of commerce all day!

Me, pointing at door:
I don't know what their address is and I've already given you directions twice.

crazy lady, backing away:
Alright man, alright man...GOD BLESS!