n o w p l a y i n g - s c r i p t b i n - f a n c l u b - s t u d i o

make love to the camera



April 13, 2001 - 1:15 pm

Adventures In Thrifting

My other diary, 1000 has been updated yet again. I knew I'd do something productive this afternoon.

Man, I think the crew of the China spy mission really fucking blew it. I was watching MSNBC yesterday, and they were covering the crew's return to the US, live. The pilot got to get up and give a short little speech after they landed. He said 'blah blah, home safe, thank you all, blah blah, more blah, God bless America' etc. He blew the chance of a lifetime. If I were that pilot, I would have been a celebrity by now. My speech would have been short, but eloquently beautiful. This is all I would have said:

"Thanks, guys. We were getting really fucking sick of Chow Mein."

See? Simple.

I went thrifting yesterday, for the first time in a long time. I really must be getting older, because it wasn't as thrilling as I once found it. I went to a thrift store a ways west on Diversey Ave. that I had noticed before. I thought it would be a great place to go for cool stuff, because there isn't a hipster in that neighborhood for miles around. It's one of Chicago's simple, blue-collar areas. I felt like a pioneer, and I thought the place would be like an untapped resource chock full of hip and swanky gear. I especially hoped to unearth my white whale of thrifting: a black Ghostbuster's t-shirt with the logo from the movie on it. Alas, yesterday was like any other day, for that rare and precious quarry eluded me once again.

I want it enough to thrift for it, but not enough to scrounge through eBay. I know it's out there. Somewhere.

Anyway, my general thrift-quest began as it always does: In the denim. No luck. If I can't find a pair of size 34 Levi's with a boot cut, I just don't care. I perused the sweaters. Not even a halfway decent v-neck in sight. Onward. I made my way to the black t's, hopeful. There were the requisite Mickey Mouses, the standard D.A.R.E. To Keep Kids Off Drugs, the ubiquitous faded plain black.

No Ghostbusters.

With a sigh, I moved on. Books, records/tapes, ashtrays, glassware. In that order.

Purchases:

Book - Carl Sagan's Cosmos. Finally, a battered copy for me to know and love. $1.00

Records/Tapes: I always wonder how people's old mix tapes end up in thrift stores. There was one with both The Pixies and The Smiths. Neat. But it also had Rod Stewart. Hmm. I ended up buying a VHS tape of old TV bloopers. If you ever wanted to see stars you don't recognize from shows you don't know swear as they blow their lines, this is the tape for you. $1.50

Ashtrays: All very common. Nothing exciting. No purchase.

Glassware: Two tumblers and a brandy glass. Once I get me a suede robe, I'm in business, pally.

So, I left. To quickly sum up what happened after that: I was exhausted because I had awoke at 5 in the morning to drive Sally to the airport (destination: Las Vegas. Mission: family). Because of a navigational error on my part, coupled with my fatigue, I went south when I really thought I was going north. So, I'm driving along, thinking I'm northbound when I pass this large park. I'm admiring the park, because it seems to be more field and hill than baseball diamond and basketball court, a regrettable rarity in Chicago. Soon, my addled brain spots the Sears Tower off in the distance.

"Hmm," thinks I. "I'm going north, and yet, the skyline is to my northwest. How odd."

After a few more rushed calculations, I realized that I couldn't possibly have somehow ended up southwest of Chicago's downtown. Therefore, I must be going south.

Bill: (matter-of-factly) Fuck.

So, as if I were subconsciously attempting to prove to myself that I was really dumb, I immediately turn right. I did this because I wanted to go east. East is back towards the lake and back towards my house.

Now, kids: What happens when you're going south and you make a right turn? In which direction are you then going?

All together now: WEST.

It took me a while to realize this little fact, too. When I had made that right turn, I was just south of Armitage (2000 north). How I ended up down at Grand (500 north), I have no fucking idea.

This is probably what alien abduction feels like.

Anyway, I obviously survived, for here I am. Due to my exhaustion, coupled with the fact that the spatial relationships section of my brain was so clearly fried, I went to sleep super early, and thus missed this local lad's live music showcase. I express my apologies here.

Finally, had the Germans won the war, this or something like it most likely would have been considered prime entertainment.

God Bless America, indeed.

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