Cold As Tits

The Thrift Store is basically a big industrial warehouse, with the front half drywalled and painted. It used to be.. shit, all kinds of things. A wood furniture warehouse and production place, and a storehouse for cars… probably other shit. ANYWAY.
If it’s hot outside, it’s friggin BOILING inside. And when it’s cold out, it’s a gawdamn freezer.
My shift is 10am to 3pm. I wore my winter coat until 1:30. COLD AS TITS in there. My  hands were like ice and I couldn’t count change or pull plastic bags apart with ANY grace at all. My nose felt like it was on constant DRIP. Just gross.
These two little beauties were “rubbin’ noses like eskimoses”… They’ve got the right idea.

 

And yes. That is a Muthafeckin’ Marble Llama behind them. Schwing.

Oh, and I’m PRETTY sure these little Salt and Pepper Shakers are both GIRLS. Go Girl Love!!! SMOOCH! That’s how you heat up a room.

Still. It was truly fecking ridiculous today. I will need to invest in some Hot Shots or something. Remember Hot Shots??

Boss Lady bought me a chocolate donut today from a bakery though, so that made up for it. Somedays I am soooo easy.

Grace.

Girl Needs Dress

I have been invited to not one, but TWO Christmas parties. It’s been a long while since I’ve been to a corporate Christmas party. I am going to need a dress. I want something fancy and long and slinky and GAWJUSS.

Also, I will most likely need a pair of shoes.

I am a little freaked out about the whole situation. Mainly because the LAST corporate Christmas party I was too was somewhat formal… and I am so AWKWARD. And Dorky. I will have to decide between being all ME, or being the prettiest, most perfect version of myself. (Does anyone even REMEMBER the song “The Sweater” by Meryn Cadell? I loved that flippin song.) One of them I’m expecting to be somewhat phancy pants. Good Goddess above, don’t let me fall in heels.

I’m at the Thrift Shop today. Hopefully something will come in soon. I have a few little black dresses… but I’ve worn the shit out of them, owned them forever. Maybe I could alter one of them? Meh.

Grace

Of Pigs and Men

Yesterday was a bit challenging at first. I’m not quite sure why. Maybe it was having an extended long weekend, and then getting back to it. Really, I think it was more everyone’s energy at the beginning of the day was SO inside themselves. No one was willing to play with me. I had to be customer service FACE all morning long, instead of playful me. That thing usually doesn’t happen for me at work. Not often.
And it was busy as shit after the first lazy hour.
Until not one, but TWO fantastic finds came in. Oh happy day! This first one, I MISSED, because it was surrounded by a pile of OTHER pigs from a collection that came in. (Or part of a collection. I just KNOW the lady who brought this in has a whole HOUSE full of pigs. )

I think it’s made of carved marble. Fucking Pigs. yeah buddeh. It was pointed out by a regular custie, who I’ve begun to flirt mercilessly with. WITHOUT MERCY! lol. He pointed this out, and I promptly whipped out my camera to shoot pig porn. Aw yeah. It’s an orgy. You can tell.
Aaaaanyway, the second thing that made my day…

Just LOOK at him! Is he not FRIGGIN DELIGHTFUL? There’s a special place in my heart for dirty old men.
It’s in my pants.
Cackle.
Anyway, Maybe I should start referring to this customer who I flirt with mercilessly as D.O.M. (For Dirty Old Man… don’t be a complete moron. Follow along.) Although, he’s not really THAT dirty of a guy. I’ve defiately met worse. (This is not a challege, by the way, to become worse.)
When I showed him my new statue, he agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly. With up and downy wiggly eyebrows and everything.
Life is fucking pigs. I mean, Good. Life is fucking Good.

Grace

Bo. Again.

SO. It’s BO. The Asshole Cat. I think he needs a theme tune.

 

He’s got Big Hairy Cat Balls. On my walls. Balls to the Walls.

And Look. He’s scaring the shit out of the Ghost, that I hadn’t zamboni’d off the wall yet.

Grace.

Boo!

Boo!

Because it’s all fecking Halloweenie every where there is retail. And 3 days of the week, I’m JOYING in Retail.

Camera is still an jerk. This was the best pic out of around 15 shots. I will own this shite yet.

 Grace.

Bo May Be An Asshole.

This is Bo. He is SUPPOSED to be the Thrift Store Cat. He’s an outdoor stray, that was hanging around a business on the highway, about a 5 minute drive away from us. Scared shitless of cars and traffic. Anyway, the Boss-Lady took him, introduced him to the store. He’s supposed to eat and kill kill kill the chipmunks that are constantly making their way into the store.

He and I met last week. He LOOKS like he should be lovely. One blue eye and one yellow. Biggest Balls ever. White and pretty. And a Male. Usually they are friendlier, right?

So far, he’s been a bit of a jerk. Doesn’t like anyone. Won’t talk to me at all. I’m offended. Last week, he ran away. braved our busy road, and the busy highway to get back to the place he was formerly hanging around. How do they know how to get back to where they used to be, without a GPS is what I want to know.

Anyway, today the Store-Kids (Boss-Lady has 4 kids, of various ages, and they were in store today because it was a PD day off from school.)… came running out of the back, yelling “Bo is doing something BAD!” All I knew is, there was no fecking way I was cleaning up cat spray/shit/piss/barf from any of the donations. This is what I found:

Bo. Making himself comfy on a giant pile of presorted clothing, due to be put on hangers and out on the floor. Doing that cat kneading thing… which was causing all the clothing to sloooooowly fall to the floor.

Just after this photo, he kneaded the mountain just enough, to completely topple the top layer, and himself to the floor. It was a 7 foot fall to the floor. (I don’t know how Boss-Lady gets the clothing piled that high in the first place. I try to stay the hell out of the back sorting area.)

Bo. He just might be an asshole.

Grace.

P.S. I didn’t pick that pile of clothing up. So, there’s a very good chance I might be an asshole too.

Grace.

Sads.

Today, I think I have the Sads.

This is a fecking AWESOME post! People LOVE this shit, right? Drama that belongs to someone other than themselves! WOOT!

So, I haven’t brushed my hair in a day or two… maybe three. Don’t know. I’ve been busy eating chocolate.

Anyway, more hair than usual came out with the conditioner. And her face just sort of formed. And then BOOM, I heard my ex-almost-sister-in-law saying to me “Do you have the saaaads?” in her cute baby voice that she uses with my ex-almost-niece-in-law. Which made me even sadder.

Anyway. Yay for art. And clean hair.

Hiss Boo for cameras that don’t pick up details of Conditioned Hair Art, but pick up EVERY fucking gross line of grout that STILL needs to be scrubbed.

Gross.

Grace.

P.S. My heart and my vagina are conspiring against me. Don’t they understand I’m ON THEIR TEAM???
P.P.S. I will eat copious amounts of junk food in an attempt to feel better. It’s not RIGHT, I know, but it’s TOTALLY what’s going to happen.