Sundays in the fall rule. Why?
Football.
I like football.
I like it more when my fantasy football team is doing well (which it is at the moment).
Sundays are good because they give me a chance to reflect on the week ahead as well as a fond look back at last week.
And Friday marked an impromptu trip to the thrift store.
I had intended the trip to be a "T-Shirts Only" visit, but as usual, the minor deities of thrift had other plans in store for me.
I knew as soon as I saw this my mission of shirts only was in jeopardy.
One "Racin' Bubba" I can fathom. The fact there there are a series of them, however, was a little too much for my pre-lunch mind to wrap itself around.
This looks exactly like president Bush to me. Only minus the diploma. And the "#1 Graduate" thing, of course.
This was a mirror in to the past. Or was it the future? I forget. And I wasn't quite prepared to be sucked in to Narnia. I had a conference call that day that I couldn't miss.
You know, I was wondering just where I could find an entire set of ugly green dishes. Now I know.
I had one of these. No batteries. Just xylophone metal plates that get hit with a striker as you roll the thing over your shag carpet.
This is a sprinkler head. I'm not sure I want to know where the water actually comes out.
The only thing I can really say after seeing this is quite simply that the executives at the toy companies have some good drugs. The best drugs in fact. That's the only explanation as to why they made toys like this.
Awwww. A snuggly bear....with hiking boots. WTF?
This game sounds really cool just by the description.
...until you actually see a picture of it.
There's a good reason why Radio Shack stopped making board games.
See....this is what happens when toy executives take their character names from adult cinema. It's the drugs, I tell ya, it's gotta be the drugs.
This looked somewhat cool (it must've been the fact that I hadn't eaten lunch yet).
Upon turning the box, though, I questioned the naming scheme.
And now we finally get to the shirts. Now, there is no mystery or question as to my geek status. And I've grown to accept it, even embrace it.
There is a certain "game" if you will, whereby you add the words "in my pants" to certain lines in classic geek flicks (the most notable being "Star Wars"...."The force is strong...in my pants" That kind of thing). So, I couldn't help but think of that as I was looking at these t-shirts.
If you're wondering why some of these actually made the post, just tack on a "in my pants" to the main phrase on the shirt (I'll make it easy by putting "I.M.P." where needed).
Now the thought of a beach party, especially Monte's, in my pants wasn't really that appealing. This was more of a homage to my dad who looked like this in the 70's and with whom I was discussing Tequila just the other week.
Well, I was rootin' for Rachel. But now? Screw 'er. Who wants a t-shirt?
I don't normally censor the photos, but if you can piece together what is on the "Show Your" sign, you'll understand why I did. Now I'm not saying I believe it, but it is a little easier to see why people say God was just cleaning house.
I know this is supposed to be Goofy as Frankenstein. But to me it looks like Goofy is stoned (well, more stoned than normal).
"I.M.P."
"I.M.P."
"I.M.P." (You mean music doesn't go round your pants?)
"I.M.P."
"I.M.P." (every man's wish)
"I.M.P." (many men's reality)
"I.M.P." (afterall, nobody wants tobacco in their pants)
"I.M.P."
This wasn't an "I.M.P." moment. This was just funny to me.
"I.M.P."
Now, these next two weren't "I.M.P." shirts, but it would take a serious pair of cajones "I.M.P." for me to wear either of these.
"I.M.P." ExtraOrdinary in my pants. Indeed.
Now this last one was a dilemna for me. On the one hand you have the tragedy of 9/11. And I didn't want to belittle that. On the other hand you have the comedy gold of a phrase like
"America will always remember the twins....in my pants." In the end, I think laughter is healing. And while I will probably go to hell for it, this made me laugh.
OK. Since I'm gonna be going to hell, I probably should buy some snacks for the trip. Now I know I made fun of these chips on the last post, but apparently what I didn't know what that these were a staple in the Detroit area. And since I went to Detroit one time (for a concert, in a blinding rain storm with broken windshield wipers), I thought I'd give them a shot.
So I got a bag of "Ketchup" and "Hot." And to be fair. That's pretty much what they tasted like. I gotta go dig out my copy of "8 Mile" now and look for the bags of Uncle Ray's. A chip is nothing without street cred.
Pump in Style? Um. Not having functioning mammories, this is sheer speculation. But I'm not sure how mechanically peforming that particular act could be seen as stylish.
This hat was signed by somebody.
After we got back from the thrift store, Wayne demonstrated the proper way to handle a Cleveland Steamer.
Alright, alright. Calm down. It's just a protein bar. That just happens to look like a turd. Mmm Mmm Good!"I.M.P."
And with that I'm gonna head back upstairs to watch the rest of the game.
Happy Sunday.
And don't forget, this Wednesday is half price day at the thrift store. I'll be charging up the batteries for some extra special pix.
Lastly, before I head out, I'd like to report that the creepy-eyed turtle was no longer in the store. The can of Creme of Mushroom soup had also been sold. But I'm sure it was just a coincedence.
