Hurry up and get born so's I can shoot ya!
Drill baby drill! on one side of the street.
Don't drill baby don't drill! on the other side of the street.
Please note, dear reader, that your humble hostess has actually endured the consequences of DRILL BABY DRILL in her own goddamn backyard and had absolutely no warning or choice in the matter.
Fabulous footwear from the terrifying Great Freight outlet store.
Fun stuff!
Always posh, always smart: the cosmetic department at Great Freight.
The Clamato juice was brown. Huh?
Savvy shoppers know that volume is the way to value when it comes to hair care products at Great Freight.
Let me out of Great Freight!
15 comments:
oh, that great freight place looks scary. they are apparently selling human blood in clamato bottles.
and the "fun stuff" looks like plastic mouse traps.
get out of that place now! it makes marc's look like macy's!!!
You nailed it, GG. Great Freight is the bottom of the barrel. Worse than Ollies!
I guess this must be a local thing ... wow, everything in there screams, 'hopelessness', or it could just be me.
Funny how places like that can seem so freaking cheerless. I wonder who does the store plan-ogram for places like that, and the 'ubiquitous' (it is a law that you use 'ubiquitous' when referencing the ...) Dollar Store here in Detroit.
What is even sadder is the 'off brand', small indy dollar stores. Some of that stuff is so 'why bother' merchandise, the kind that you scratch your head and wonder what kind of mind gave THAT a green light?
Ooh, and the helpful workers!! The young women, who are getting ready for the beginning of their careers in menial, unskilled labor, and the odd men that somehow have become 'management', which is an essential difference of $3.00 per hour to spend their time working in a crap store.
But hey, that's me ...
I was on a road trip once with a friend who HAD to stop at EVERY dollar store we passed. Oy! I think I have had my share of enough dollar stores to last a lifetime!
But I also have a friend who owns one of those dollar store type places. He's a wiley character with a gift to gab...always making deals right and left. He makes an absolute fortune selling all that close out type crap. He's such a talker that I swear he could sell you a used bobby pin and a bar of generic Ivory soap!
Others have tried to imitate him...opening 99 cent stores and the like, but only he has lasted. So far, he's expanded at least three times, and bought two buildings to house all that junk. Amazing!
From the looks of this mornings sporting news you can find Shaquile O'Neal over on aisle 3.
RJ
I confess...two of my favorite lipsticks came from a mom & pop dollar store. One is an obnoxious orange color which I refuse to limit to Halloween time :) The other is a deep cinnamon-wine color, which is perfect for when I'm onstage. I refuse to buy dollar store food, though, as it just creeps me out.
Please note, dear reader, that your humble hostess has actually endured the consequences of DRILL BABY DRILL in her own goddamn backyard and had absolutely no warning or choice in the matter
So the Goat was feeling a little frisky eh?
(wink, wink, nudge, nudge, etc, etc...)
I am trying to figure out what the "Fun Stuff" is--it looks like portable dog doo scraper-upper-and-containers...but is that really "fun"? I guess maybe for the DOG...
PS--I'll bet the American Dental Association is pissed that they didn't think of "Drill Baby Drill" first. Sorry guys it is patented now--"Rinse Baby Rinse" is still available and I would recommend you bite the bullet and take it.
The male equivalent is of course Harbor Freight.
I confess to buying shitty offshore
flourescent drop lights there for two, no three, reasons:
1.) Flourescent lights vs. incandescent "trouble" lights of any quality are an order of magnitude less likely to spark a fuel fire when they break.
2.) Flourescent drop lights of any quality will break, fail, flicker and become scratched and covered with crap, if they are being used at any significant duty cycle. Better to trash the $9.99 HF job. Photons are photons, lumens are lumens.
3.) I'd rather trade than go to war.
While at HF, I'm always aware that the offshore countries can, and are, making way better shit for their own military. And after I go look at the soul-less machine tools, I return to my shop, and lovingly caress my 1956 American made engine lathe.
No surrender.
Floss baby floss!
Is it a Monarch lathe, phil? My Dad had a 7-foot bed Monarch that he said was 100 years old.
To paraphrase Frank Zappa, "Is that a Sears photon or a Real Photon?"
There must be a country song somewhere called "The caress of an engine lathe." If not, phillbilly should pen it.
Erin, have you ever posted on what has become of your father's tools?
RJ
No, RJ. The story of Dad's tools is the saddest story there ever was. One day maybe I'll write about it.
Sorry to evoke that memory.
RJ
I wish it were a hundred year old Monarch, it's a damn nice South Bend.
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