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Thrift score!
The biggest perk that comes with helping out the local thrift store a couple days a week is that I get first whack at all the new stuff they get. For me, this usually means the occasional piece of costume jewelry or some sorely-needed art supplies. Today, I got the mother of all thrift scores. Here’s how it happened…
As I was sorting through jewelry Franz, my evil cohort, started reading aloud a framed letter he found:
Thank you very much for your most thoughtful note offering your support, prayers and concern for our family. It has often been said that in difficult times we especially appreciate the simple acts of kindness and decency, which touch the soul.
While my decision to announce my resignation has significant public consequences, it was first and foremost a personal decision, which reflected the need to pursue right course for our State and family…
At this point I looked up and shouted:
Who the fuck is this? Jim McGreevey!?!
Give that woman a Kewpie doll!*
I’m not too sure where I am going to hang my newly-acquired and priceless (‘cuz I didn’t pay a red cent for it) piece of New Jersey history, but I am very tempted to bully my husband into placing it on his desk at work. In all likelihood it’ll probably wind up in our bathroom next to the to the toilet (so as to provide reader material for our visitors).
Miss Heather
P.S.: The other perk of working there is that I can drop as many f-bombs as I want and my co-workers have my back. Just today I let one slip much to the consternation of a customer, who I will call “Momma” (as in Throw Momma from the Train because that’s who she looks like).
Momma: I hate that kind of language!
Me: (Silence. There was no way in hell I was going to apologize for using a word whose many conjugations I hear on the street at least 5-6 times day.)
Franz: I think I will put on some Madonna.
Me: Yes, please do put her on. I have been craving her music of late, but simply have not gotten around to listening to it at home.
Although I do enjoy listening to Madge on occasion, I knew the likes of “Lucky Star” or “Ray of Light” was not what my co-worker had in mind. Franz then proceeded to put on a song that is little more than a mash-up of Madonna saying the word “fuck”. Over and over. Momma didn’t like this very much. After plopping down $2.00 for a book she left in a huff uttering some self-righteous bullshit about how ‘the customer is treated last’. This didn’t stop her from coming back 20 minutes later to buy another book.
If you ask me, this broad should have taken that $4.00 and parlay it towards a box of hair dye instead. This woman was rocking some serious ‘bridge and tunnel’ hair, if you know what I mean. Revlon’s Colorsilk only costs $4.00-$5.00 a box, for fuck’s sake! Two inch long white roots with Lucille-fucking-Ball red tips is UGLY! If she doesn’t fix that shit by the next time I see her I am going to stand behind the counter and aspirate f-words until it polishes enamel off my teeth.
*Being a former Dallasite, let me tell you a little something about Oaklawn Avenue. It is the main drag in a section of Dallas called, appropriately enough, “Oaklawn”. “Oaklawn” is Big D’s answer to San Fran’s Castro District— or Chelsea in New York City. Interesting, eh?
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