Took a run at the Bartlett Goodwills a little while ago with a couple friends from work.
And up on Austin Peay… someone remodeled a little!
They’ve sort of slowly been rearranging this particular Goodwill over the course of my last few visits. It’s nice to see it looking so presentable. Even if I still resent having to drive all the way out here to root around.
So. Let’s jump right in with this “DILF” business. For the two of you out there who don’t get the “joke” yet, if you know what a “MILF” is, then you can surely make the leap to figuring out on your own what a “DILF” is supposed to be. And if you don’t know what a “MILF” is then… just forget it. Okay, here, click this link and it’ll show you.
So anyway. Here’s my problem with this whole thing. While I find the whole “MILF” self-identification thing kind of silly and pointless, it’s basically harmless and hey, if a few older ladies want to feel good about themselves and take charge of their sexuality after they’ve popped out a couple of kids, then more power to them. But these “DILF” shirts are kind of the creepy inverse of that. Stop and examine it with me for a moment.
1. First off, the whole idea behind a “MILF” is that a woman is presumed to have lost most of, if not all of her sexual appeal or identity or capacity, after she’s had a child or two and/or reached anything even approaching middle age. Setting aside the fact that that’s a complete fallacy to begin with, the reasons for it basically center around the physical ravages brought on by childbearing – stretching, weight, etc. A guy doesn’t suffer any of those same detriments, so what is there to reclaim exactly?
2. This is the kicker – for a guy to wear this shirt would more or less imply that he’d like to do it with himself, wouldn’t it?
3. And three…
Okay one of these shirts by themselves would be kind of stupid and funny. Three of them together is a little sad. The fact that there were THIRTY of them (30, three followed by a zero) on the god damn rack, all laid out together, is profoundly embarrassing for my entire god damn gender. Are we that desperate, fellas? What happened to saving up and buying a nice two piece suit and maybe hitting the gym occasionally? Do we really think it’s just easier to slap one of these t-shirts on and hope that no one notices that oh wait, no one in their right minds would actually want to sleep with us because we are old and sad and creepy and pathetic? The worst part is, I bet it actually worked once or twice. Ick.
Moving on. I actually took some pictures of clothes for a change because I was looking for a few cheap articles of black clothing to wear to the gym (speaking of going to the gym… wow, even though I’m probably not ever going to produce any children, maybe I’ll get to be an “OGILF” someday!) and I chanced across this shirt, and neither of my traveling companions that day, both of whom grew up in and around Memphis, could tell me what team this shirt was supposed to represent. This site suggests it’s some sort of Boys’ League team. I guess that’s right? Any locals care to enlighten me?
So here was a cool thing I chanced across. Funny Bones! The goofy, Laugh-In aesthetic of this little “card game” caught my eye, and upon further examination it turned out to be legitimately retro and vintage and kind of cool, manufactured around 1968.
According to the “directions,” it’s supposed to be played at “adult happenings,” (why does that sound so gross?) “teen-age get togethers,” and various other events. You take these gaily printed pieces of card stock and apparently hold them in between the various body parts described on the card, for some sort of specified increments of time. I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention.
I was too distracted by how much these cards seemed to scream SOCK IT TO ME! And, even though I had no intention of actually participating in the aforementioned card-holding ritual (unless there were serious amounts of hallucinogens involved, or something… I mean seriously, Twister, even SOBER Twister, hell, even watching the MOVIE “Twister,” even watching the MOVIE “Twister” SOBER, sounds sexier and more entertaining than actually “playing” this “game”), I was kind of struck with a moment of inspirato from one of my favorite blogs, the awesome FinderMaker, and his recurrent habit of displaying utterly fascinating shit in really interesting contexts, and so I decided to bite the bullet and shell out the 99 cents they were asking for this cool vintage find, and display it in my home as well. I ended up securing them to the tops of a few door frames in my apartment with painter’s tape – I’d favor you with a picture, but the light’s too low in here at the moment, and I am perhaps not in the best of all possible conditions to hold my camera the absolute steadiest it’s ever been. I hope you understand.
That’s right, we’re about to go straight through the looking glass into another dimension. A dimension not only of sight and sound, but of cheese. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of your willingness to keep a straight face under an onslaught of silly nonsense. There’s the signpost up ahead. Your next stop – THE THRIFT ZONE!
Srsly tho, if I had a nickel for every space unicorn I’d seen, I would be swimming in the damn things like Scrooge McDuck. And although this was beyond my capacity to purchase and take home, I managed to convince one of my running dogs to snag it. His name has been changed to protect his identity, so let’s just call him “Wark Meber” and leave it at that.
Okay, I know this is a stupid cheesy cash-in on a Saturday Night Live sketch from 10+ years ago that everyone’s already tired of hearing about and watching, but got dang if it wasn’t a badass Cruising Around With The Dudes On A Sunday Afternoon CD. The weather was hot, the windows were open, and we were cussin’ up a storm to the sweet sweet sounds of Free, The James Gang, and of course Blue Öyster Cult.
Oh no, there goes Tokyo.
If you could snag the third and fourth X albums for 59 cents a piece, and your car had a tape player, wouldn’t you?
I could NOT figure out what this thing was, for the life of me. Most Goodwills have an irritating (but understandable) habit of taping shut all their board games, and basically anything boxed up, or that contains parts that could fall out or get stolen. This was in with the furniture, and the top piece of wood was taped to the body of the thing in like six different spots, and i couldn’t peek inside for the life of me.
I knew it wasn’t just a table or a piece of furniture, but I wasn’t getting anywhere just standing there peering at it.
It had these neat little metal hinged legs, and I was almost thinking it was like a card table or something, until I cleared away all the crap that was sitting on top of it and saw these:
Oh. Duh. Right. Mini-bumper pool table. So cool! Very much wishing now that I’d bought it. Might have even been worth a few bucks. Of course it would have been easier to ascertain that if they hadn’t taped it shut, but again, I can understand why.
Man, sometimes I really wish I still had someone to buy shit like this for.
Okay a few quick shots and we’re out of here. Waiting to check out, I noticed what I thought was the creepiest doll ever in the display case up front, when my buddy Eric pointed out (right next to it, in fact) the ACTUAL creepiest doll ever:
This picture doesn’t exactly do it justice, but that is an evil doctor with a hacksaw. Tell me this wasn’t supposed to be given to a child, please.
Oh my god, it’s Jackie Chan!
How do you put a price tag on an autographed picture of Jackie Chan? Well, pretty easily, I guess.
And last but not least, an awesome Underwood typewriter. I’ve bought a few of these over the years, then not used them and ended up giving them away, so I’m not even really tempted any more, but I can still recognize a good typewriter when I see one. Not everyone can say that.
Oh also Eric snagged these very cool coaster sets, which I missed entirely.
Vive le France!
Be back soon with the second Goodwill. Hopefully we can pick up the pace here a little bit. Don’t hold your breath.
…Okay, you can hold it if you really want to. Who am I to tell you not to.