I love thrift stores. How can you not? There's no place like them. So many inalienable characteristics. So many alien people. For any thrift store regulars, this list should be almost boringly recognizable.
- Everyone's walking with a limp.
- Someone, somewhere, is coughing. No, like, "Are they okay?" coughing.
- One of the aisles smells like urine. And the items in the aisle are completely irrelevant. Sometimes it's the books and puzzles and snowcone maker aisle, and sometimes it's the plates and bowls and broken-electronic-dartboard-with-candy-bar-gunk-in-it aisle. Doesn't matter what. Smells like pee.
- In the corner, a guy is staring at a car stereo with a tape deck. He's debating. Yeah, it's in really good condition considering how old it is. Looks vintage. On the other hand... dude, do you even have tapes? Yeah, you probably do...
- Something is spilled on the floor. It's either tomato soup or blood. Neither of which should be in a thrift store. But you're not surprised.
- There are no food items for sale anywhere in the store, but for some reason ooh, expired Pringles! I'm sure they're fine.
- Look, some jerk left a Starbucks coffee cup just sitting on a shelf. Oh wait, that's yours.
- "This is a nice, giant metal desk that obviously belonged to a grade school teacher and will require a U-Haul to transport. There must be somewhere I can fit this."
- There's a year-round Christmas/Holiday section of records. The same ones from last year. If people are so up in arms about people not saying "Merry Christmas," start buying those fucking Christmas records. Maybe people think you don't want to hear "Merry Christmas." That's certainly what the record section tells me.
- Hovering around the employees who are pretending to listen is a crazy guy who is always in the store. He doesn't buy anything. Ever. You've never seen him arrive, or leave. He just... is.
- Oh wow, what a great t-shirt... if only the previous owner didn't have a neck the size of a waist.
- That couch looks like it's in decent shape... but I don't trust that there isn't a racoon living somewhere inside.
- Okay, the maximum time you can be in a thrift store before feeling like you've swallowed a dirt cake with a dust bunny frosting has passed. Oh well, that's fine, I need some time to think about whether or not to purchase that ketchup stained strobe light.
Come on, wander the aisles with me and try to avoid the black lung...
For record collectors, thrift stores can be a Mecca. Especially if you're on a religious trek for Montavanni and Christmas albums and 1963 high school choir releases.
Oh, no problems growing up, I'm sure, for... Juice.
The front cover says, "Hi, we're naked..."
The back cover says...
"And fucking loving it!"
I just want to say...
I fully support your lifestyle, Ms. Newton.
Good record. Most notable track: "Hey, God? ... Oh, The Silent Treatment Again, I See How It Is!" Most Sexual Orientation-Changing Track: "Pray That Gay Away!" Second Most Sexual Orientation-Changing Track: "Still Gay? Well, Good News, God Loves Pretend Straight People Too!"
Thrift stores are also a great place to buy clothes you won't normally find anywhere else. You might find a tshirt with the 7-Up guy on it, once worn by... well, probably the 7-Up guy.
It's okay, blue plaid collared shirt. You're safe now. Carl can't hurt you anymore.
My friend points out the Jolly Green Giant's fall house cleaning donation.
Really want to get these, but even more than wanting to get these, I want nothing to do with these...
There's no man on Earth who wants a woman to look at his crotch and think, "He must be fast." I'll pass, $1.49 bin at thrift store... I'll pass.
My first thought seeing this was "For the menstruating woman on-the-go in a post-apocalyptic world."
Though, in a post-apocalyptic world, the cost probably wouldn't be dollars. More like, one Bag O Rags for rodent protein. Or one Bag O Rags for half a basement sex slave.
Sorry, I seizured then blacked out there after thinking I had entered a parallel dimension where reality had become the opening sequence to Saved By The Bell.
Is this why Time Warner Cable sucks? Because they're no longer obligated to wear these shirts and in turn be "here to help."
I thought this was a rather touching gift, and what a nice---wait a second...
#1 Dad? But that other shirt said... listen, if a #1 Dad shirt can't be relied on for authenticity, what can we rely on dammit!
You have to admit... the shirt has a point.
Moments after this photo was taken, this shirt crashed to the floor. When I went to pick it up, a thrift store employee grabbed it and said, "Hold on, this shirt needs to be updated, it'll just be a few hours." Oh, Windows XP humor.
I don't know what's more sad, that someone bought this in the first place and hung it up, or that the conversation leading up to its donation probably went something like this...
HUSBAND: Honey, look what I got.
WIFE: What the fuck is this? What did I tell you?
WIFE: What did I tell you about making purchases? Didn't I tell you?
HUSBAND: What are you so upset about?
WIFE: Didn't I tell you not to buy anything??
HUSBAND: It's just a print.
WIFE: Get rid of it, you fucking moron. Didn't I tell you? What did I tell you??
HUSBAND: Get rid of it?
WIFE: Yes, get rid of it, I don't care what you do with it, just get rid of it, you dumb piece of shit! Get it out of here!
From the back page...
“She was Fate's plaything... scorned when people thought her only a bondswoman's niece, courted as if she were a princess when Fortune made her a potential heiress. Then hounded into a headlong flight when she lost her inheritance.
But Georgianna was equal to every trick of Fate. She was the daughter of Imogene, the only woman whose beauty could rival her own, the woman who edared to love the fearless pirate renowned as 'the best blade in the Caribbean.'
Andy's note: Just so you know, by blade, they mean his dick. Oh, you caught that, okay, okay, just making sure you're getting the full experience here. Carry on...
Even barefoot and in homespun, Georgianna was proud, passionate, a feast for the eyes and heart. And no man could gaze upon her without yearning.”
Rash Reckless Love, emphasis on rash, is 600 page romp through the Caribbean. I didn't read all 600 pages. I skimmed through until I found the sex parts and the sex parts that are disguised with careful wording and imagery.
“...he made her fully his with one last swordlike thrust...”
“And all in the arms of a lover who had made many women his—and left them all.”
Left them all... a rash? Honestly, I found this book to be one big clock tease. You heard me...
"With his free arm cradling her back he swung her torso back and forth against him. Like the pendulum of a big clock! she thought, amazed at his supple strength."
Yeah, that's some big clock.
I found America: The Game, a fairly dated computer game. I checked the game specs on the box to make sure my computer was good enough to run it...
Minimum Requirements: Electricity
Ah, the Nokia belt clip and holder. I guess it makes sense that Nokia entered into a sponsorship deal with the film Road Warrior since they came out around the same time. I wonder how much this Nokia belt clip and holder will fetch given that it will still be in this store when Barter Town is founded.
Random Dirty Athletic Protective Cup
This was my first random dirty protective athletic cup found at a thrift store (atop a DVD sleeve for the film The Beach, naturally) and I have to admit I was pretty excited. So excited, in fact, it gave me a boner. If only I had something to protect my shame from being seen by everyone in this thrift store----Wait a second! Nice try, dirty athletic protective cup, not falling for it!
Well, that was fun. Alright, time to go wash your hands before eating or touching your face or basically anything that---whoops too late you have rickets.