My mom has a bookstore at a flea market. She’s been building her business there from a few tables in a stall to a full-out, serious booklover paradise. I spent a lot of time there, as I was not to be trusted on my own (at least until teenage years, which, ironically, should have been the least trusted) and I was free labor.
I don’t go out there anymore as much as I should, but I did meet up with some friends out there today.
Flea markets are magical.
I didn’t buy anything except for a few beers and a pair of men’s underwear that are far better utilized as around-the-house booty shorts (they have MEN written on the waistband in case there’s any confusion). We had a lovely time in the most random “dollar store” ever, featuring a vast array of items including stress reliever balls shaped like boobs. I suppose there’s a market for that if you don’t have your own. Personally, I’ve never used my own that way, but maybe I’m missing out.
Aside from the girl time and fulfilling the real reasons we were there (to get plants for my friend, visiting my dear mother and checking out/giving the DIRTIEST LOOKS EVER to her competition), I made some observations based on the merchandise offered as well.
- People who go to the flea market like cats. The majority of cat items were knick-knacky figurines, but there were also offerings of t-shirts and car magnets with horribly distorted illustrations.
- Cat people only like knick-knacky figurines, cat t-shirts and car magnets with horribly distorted illustrations but don’t need any actual products for their cat. Although there were a bazillion places with dog and bird (really? birds?) supplies, there was only one place with dubious-looking Temptations cat treats.
- People who go to the flea market like beer. This includes me. Beer made the heat bearable. The majority of the 21+ population walking around had a beer in hand. Sorry to my friends who do not normally imbibe such a pedestrian beer as Bud Light, but that’s like my heaven. Good sports, you girls are!
- Flea market vendors are too pushy. This does not include my mother, oddly enough. No sir, I do not want to buy your fake Versace necklace that’s “discounted” 85% down to $25. I only pointed it out to my friends to laugh about. And that thing I said about it being too big for my tastes? That was supposed to be a nice way of me saying “I’d never buy that” – not an opening for you to offer up a smaller version.
- You will find things you didn’t know you needed, both at prices that are laughably large (the WORST drawing of a Bucs’ helmet I’ve ever seen, signed by every member of one of the worst Bucs teams ever to play…not sure of the year but I know it was bad because I spotted Vinny Testeverde’s autograph on it…for $500) and so cheap you’d be a FOOL not to buy them.
I made some other observations, but they’re probably pretty rude. Anyway, I had a good time plus I remembered how much I love the flea market and although I didn’t bring my mom any business, I felt supportive and good-daughtery, and what’s better than that?
Today was a very long day, just like every day this week has been. But it was an awesome day. Why, you ask?
BECAUSE LIL BUB CAME TODAY!
I’m having a lovefest, at least as much of a lovefest as my broken, injured self can have. The boyfriend was off from work today, and despite this fact he went all the way to the mailbox for me to pick it up (it’s at the entrance of our complex, he has the key). The only thing I’m a little upset about is that January and February are already over and I’m not able to enjoy the Lil Bub calendar for a full 12 months. January is Lil Bub and Gizmo!
Also a tiny bit perturbed that tomorrow isn’t going to be as warm as I’d like to wear my Lil Bub tank top, but hey, that’s what layers are for, right?
Every time I look at Lil Bub I squeal. I mentioned my squealing in an earlier post. I do it a lot. Over cute things, anyway. So I’m in a much better mood than when I hobbled out of Big Brown feeling like a big ball of pain. That could be the 3 beers, too, but who the hell cares.
Taco is rather dubious of this new arrival that I fawn over. Tough crap, kitty. His pictures are silent, unlike your loud ass. Maybe if you stuck your tongue out more often I’d fawn over you as much.
The calendar is coming to work with me tomorrow for everyone to enjoy. Fridays, although they are Fridays, always end up being a frantic marathon of a day, so Lil Bub will be much needed. Be jealous.
The cat tree got here safely. It was a 70 pound box, so I’m sure my UPS guy loves me. I DO have to work with the guy, after all, and he knows where I live. Sorry, Aaron. You chose this life.
Enough about Big Brown. I got home from work early last night and starting pulling the straps off (we call them “hub snakes” in the business. Insider knowledge. Easy to trip on.) and pulling all the pieces out. The boyfriend looked at me like I was crazy and said “Really? You’re going to do that now? I’ll do it this weekend.” But I was determined, and he is not to be trusted putting things together because he forgets that things are made too cheaply for his high construction standards and ends up tightening things to the point of breaking. Besides, I like putting things together. And the boyfriend has a sinus infection, which I told him he had before he went to the doctor, but NO ONE listens to me. He never gets sick. I get sick twice a year, every year, and my sinuses ALWAYS hate me. I had a minor nosebleed all day Monday. This bitch knows sinuses.
I digress, as usual. He retired upstairs as I cracked a beer and got to checking out the instructions while the cats inspected the box it came in, plus the styrofoam. I inspected each piece while I pondered starting. Then I decided that I did not, in fact, feel like putting that shit together.
So I piled things (appropriately, so the cats don’t knock piles over and hurt themselves), spilled my beer, then also retired upstairs where the sick boyfriend and I watched Tosh.O and I laughed.
Sorry kitties. I worked all day. Slaving over a hot desk so you could eat. You can wait.
They don’t care. They just want food anyway.
I have so generously been awarded an award. Thank you to CatPurrology! As a new blogger, it’s comforting to know that my writing is decent enough to warrant this honor.
The rules to the ONE LOVELY BLOG AWARD are:
• Thank the person who nominated you and link back to them in your post
• Share 7 things about yourself
• Nominate 15 or so bloggers you admire
• Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know they’ve been nominated.
So. 7 things about myself. So many things to say…
1. I am not a natural blonde. This is probably not a surprise, as my shade of blonde is not found in nature. Technically, though, I was a blonde as a kid, it just got darker as I grew up. So I bleach the hell out of it.
2. I have an addiction to shopping. It is quite serious.
3. I have a lot of tattoos, and I really hate when a-holes with tribals try to bond with me over our shared tattooage. Oh, are you Samoan? No? Well then.
4. I am easily distracted by animal print.
5. I’m a walking disaster. I can trip, fall, bump into and crush almost anything, especially if it is something I should not be able to trip, fall, bump into or crush easily.
6. In spite of the above, I have never broken a bone, except for my tailbone, I think. I fell getting out of a sailboat, right onto the rope mooring it. Not fun. Couldn’t sit properly for weeks.
7. I really really really love football and beer. The months between football seasons sadden me.
So that’s that. Nothing about cats, even! I figure I talk about them enough otherwise.
15 seems slightly excessive, so I’m going to shorten my list. I apologize in advance if I am breaking blogger code, but I so love breaking rules!
2. Tabi Happy
4. Spots of Odd
Gah, I’m so lazy today. If I left you out, it’s not because I don’t admire you, it’s because I’m sloth-like in my production today.