I can’t come up with post titles anymore. God help me in the future if I ever need to find shit on here.

Anyway, Saturday was alright. I woke up in A BAD MOOD but I went for a walk, did a GrowwithJo cardio workout and then felt OK enough to be in an amenable state to leave the house with Henry. We are fully in the process of refurbing an Ikea wardrobe and dresser set and it requires trips to antique shops to find some accoutrements for it. Namely: rosaries and small crucifixes. Just…you’ll see. If we ever get it finished.

The antique shop I wanted to go to wasn’t open yet because dumbo Henry didn’t check the times so instead, we drove to Coraopolis and hit the motherlode of rosaries at some place there:

This is my collection as of Saturday. The two on the end are from eBay (the last one glows in the dark!).

The older women behind the counter didn’t ask what our deal was with all the rosaries (members the MYOB club, I like it) but I was prepared to answer honestly that the Devil appointed me to his Catholic Relic Eradication Committee.

“Can I have a paper receipt for reimbursement? Thanks.”

By this time, the antiques place on 65 was open. We’ve been here numerous times and have had success in the past (I know I’ve bought treasures here but for the life of me, cannot remember what) but I don’t think we’ve here since during the pandemic when we were renovating the kitchen and I got super pissed that people weren’t wearing masks.

I forgot how vibey this joint is. It is an eyeball feast for someone like me who appreciates antiques juxtaposed with kitsch.

I took this picture specifically to send to Chooch and instead of being disgusted in his dad, he was like, “SEND ME A CLOSER PICTURE OF THAT SHIP PAINTING.”

He really imprinted on it for some reason but ended up telling me not to get it because he won’t be able to hang it in his dorm room next year. I think I might go back and get it for him anyway though.  He’s not going to be living in a dorm forever, after all??

I wanted the light-up angel underneath the ship painting but Henry looked at the price tag and hit me with his I DON’T THINK frown.

GOOD THING MAMA BEAR* HAS CREDIT CARDS.

*(I’ve been watching way too much Jake Webber, sorry.)

Dude come on now, seriously. I could live in this room. It is so aesthetically pleasing and makes me wish we had more blank walls in the house to play with.

There was one room that had a bunch of original art from Jeff Bertrand and I was SALIVATING over them and Henry was like DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, YOU HAVE CREDIT CARDS but in the end, I couldn’t decide which one I wanted the most and spent so much time ruminating that all of them stopped speaking to me. So, I got nothing. I was in full-fledge pout mode at this point, so I told Henry to just put back the WHO’S THAT GIRL* soundtrack record I was “so excited” to buy 30 minutes prior to this. I get very overstimulated when shopping and experience shopper’s pre-remorse which results in me panicking and buying nothing.

*(I had this on cassette when I was in elementary school and used to blast it on my dad’s stereo while roller-skating in the basement. Very good memories associated with this soundtrack. Ugh. I hope it’s still there?!)

I left with nothing but an allergic reaction from all the dust.

The rest of the day was pretty chill. My bad mood went away after I ate lunch. Shocker.

Henry went out later to get craft supplies because He’s So Crafty, and also came home with two beers from Duffy’s. We haven’t been indulging in that anymore but since he only brought home two and not a whole six-pack, I allowed it. He was able to procure this one that Penn Brewery did with Sarris Candies, which I guess I was kind of excited about because it was a hot commodity when it was released and sold out, but it’s a stout so I also didn’t have high hopes.

OMG it was so bad. I took two sips and gave it all to Henry, who also didn’t like it but he’s one of those WASTE NOT WANT NOT types and drank all of it with his facial muscles frozen in sheer disgust.

I tasted nothing even remotely reminiscent of Sarris. Not even a whiff. Tastes more like a box in the next room over from a Sarris meltaway.

AND THAT’S ALL I HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THAT.

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