I loved thrift shopping long before Macklemore made it cool. I went a few days ago with a good friend while our kids were at school. We arrived before the store opened. I imagine the workers were inside laughing as we tugged at the locked door. “Look at these losers.”
The early bird gets the worm or in this case a dress worn at the scene of a homicide.
There were what looked like blood stains all over this particular garment. Did someone steal her scrunchie? Did her roommate break her crimping iron? We may never know what made her snap. I would worry about the person who buys this, too.
If Febreeze wants to impress me it needs to record a commercial in a Salvation Army. If you can make it smell less like dirt and feet and more like Ryan Gosling’s neck then I am sold. I haven’t smelled his neck, but I imagine it is delicious. Did I just sound like Kathy Bates’ character in “Misery?”
I also found this great kitty cat portrait.
Think about this: at some point, somewhere, somebody saw this picture in a store and said, “I love that picture! I don’t care how much it costs, I am buying that!” He/she went home got a hammer and nail (because this was way before Hercules hooks) and put that sucker on the wall. They weren’t even drunk.
The Salvation Army also has the greatest greeter. Walmart could learn a thing or two from them.
I don’t need to hear a sweet old lady saying Hello. I need a mannequin with her head duct taped to her body. It’s white trash plastic surgery. Nothing says “Welcome to our store” better! I am just not so sure I would have worn a belt with that dress.