I was shopping the Goodwill yesterday. I am the master of thrift shopping, for I have an eye for good fabric and design and I can pull that designer name out of a sea of Faded Glory and Norton McNaughton. Back in the day, Leslie and I were the queens of plucking the Hanna Andersson and Oilily from the racks of McKids and Circo and reselling them at a tidy profit... (Leslie was better than me). all this to say that I'm naturally classy. Not klassy, like Rick James. Classy, like Grace Kelly. I am programmed for the finer things. I have dragged my hillbilly heritage to my Cape Cod birthplace. So I'm walking through the Goodwill, with a tailored wool blazer and two piece Flax ensemble (retail at least $120!) over my arm. A woman comes up to me and says, "Excuse me, where are the ladies handbags?" I'm game, I'm a seasoned shopper AND a helpful citizen. "Hmm...they used to be here with the belts and shoes...They keep moving things around on me." "Yes. Well, do you at least know where you keep the dressy dresses?" Where *I* keep? I keep them in the closet in Julianna's room b/c I so seldom use them, but why would you care? Oh no. You think I WORK at Goodwill. Holy crap. So Andi, you can just stop your whining.
Once upon a time, a blog was started at AOL Journals. The scales fell from the eyes of The Creator and it was moved to Wordpress. Then Journals tanked and all old posts were moved here for safekeeping.
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1 comment:
HA! I may look McDonalds disgruntled, but you look Goodwill disgruntled! On the other hand, I'd much rather work at the Goodwill than McDonalds.
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