Today I made a trip to that mecca of mess, le boutique Value Village, as my pals & I used to call it. LOVES a Valoo Villazh, me. Really do. I went to my second choice one, as I was in that neck of the woods anyway. I had a lovely ramble round, and came away with the following: a pretty pink & brown sweater vest, a pair of stellar blacky-brown, pointy vintage cowboy boots (yay!! Go little boots, and join your fellows in my burgeoning collection), a lotus flower candle holder, a beee-you-tiful, ruby red champagne glass (drinking from it RIGHT NOW), some books for the girls, a lovely, long woolly & denim coat for Raine, and finally, a sweet, jeans skirt embroidered with flowers & butterflies for Cleo. Oh, and a great Skydiggers cassette. Pretty awesome haul, overall, with middlin'-cheap thrift store prices. This is the good bit about VV. But, as Axl Rose so sensitively pointed out, every rose has its thorn......
I went to examine a beautifully crocheted afghan/throw, all of colourful granny squares. It was in fine shape, and really lovely colours. As I picked it up, getting ready to add it to my loot, a thing fell out of it. The thing was a ball of human hair the size of a small dog...all matted & kind of crispy & wispy. Funny how the glamour fell off it at this point...
I was then looking at the bags which, I found out, were v. near (V.V. near) the washroom. As I browsed along, and admired a cute, summer straw bag, I was treated to the sound of grunting at a decibel level and pitch I only though possible from labouring water buffalos. Seriously, somebody was in some real trouble in there. So my straw bag would have been forever tainted by the noises accompanying someone's pre-911 toilet experience.
The yin and yang of the Double Vs is something to behold!
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3 comments:
You're lucky they didn't try to charge you extra for the clot of hair. In lots of places they'd kill you for less.
Again, I gacked a little reading this. The human hair thing- and the way you described it as both crispy AND wispy...well. Whew. That's gnarly.
I miss Valoo Villazh so much, although I always make a trip to the one in Medicine Hat when I go to visit me pappy. We have a shitacular Salvation Army here, but I grow weary of fighting over clothing with Hutterites, quasi-Goth kids and crack-addled hookers when I go there.
Next time you're here, Ava, we shall go to VV!! Leaving the shitacular Sally Ann in the dust!!
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