Last Sunday, we went to Rossi’s Pop-Up Market (and Alisha wants everyone to know that the essay I wrote about it for my creative non-fiction class was no exaggeration, thank you). Now, the last few times I hit up any flea market, I’ve struck out and spent most of the day pouting about it. Not even any Christopher Pike books?
But this time, I made out. It’s a good thing I have very low standards.
First, I got a Virgin Mary bracelet which I probably paid about $3 too much for and realized that I have one almost identical to it at home, but whatever. I used Henry’s money.
THEN. Then I found this piece of hot ass shit:
WHAT? They just don’t make picture frames like that anymore.
After I scrounged fifty cents out of my pocket, it was mine. ALL MINE. I grabbed that sonofabitch so fast and held it close to my face. To the lady behind the table, I said, “And I’m totally keeping these pictures in it, too!”
Then a piece fell off of it.
I have a hat like that! I should wear it today in honor of what I’m doing. Wait – what am I doing again? Oh yeah, sitting and typing.
I want to look like that when I’m on the phone!@!
It’s hanging above my microwave right now, you guys! Can you stand it!!
And then some old hag wanted FOUR DOLLARS for this but Henry was like, “Tell her you only have $2” and I have to say that I felt guilty lying to someone’s great-grandmother, but she was like, “FINE TAKE IT” and then went back to chugging her Metamucil. (Alisha tried telling me that was spelled wrong, but I emerged victorious.)
It’s hung up real nice above my commode, a nice companion for my Last Supper (the epitome of religious eye sores) and this other Mary thing I have:
Then Chooch pissed his pants and we had to leave.