She Was Eaten to DEATH

*ahem* Let’s get doewn to business; we have a lot of madeerial to cover. (…I’m so sorry. Those are some of my worst puns yet. My Aunt Ler would be so ashamed.)

Today’s adventure started off with a “blue light”—which is, as described earlier, a term my mom coined for yardsales that sneak up on you, like that axe murderer that’s creeping up behind you right now. Although as it turned out, I did see this one listed on Craigslist the night before. The post just had one critical flaw:

They didn’t include an address. Which—as you might imagine—is a bit of a problem when you’re trying to visit someone’s house. My GPS is an older model; it doesn’t understand how to get me from Spring Street to “near Route 67, past where the old supermarket used to be.”

So how did I know it was the same sale? They mentioned in the post that they had a bunch of gravestones for sale, and, well…

They sure did!

My favorite, by far: “Here lies BETH. She was eaten to DEATH.” (Although “SALLY BASS got overcome by GAS” comes in at a close second.)

A whopping $50 for the whole lot though; they must’ve read my post about ridiculous Connecticut Prices, and took it as a challenge. “Oh, he thinks $4 for a scratched up CD is bad? Just wait until I charge half a hundo for these cardboard things I painted!”

Although that said, for only $5 I could’ve taken home this fantastic lobster rug:

…but it’s a good thing I didn’t get my claws into that; I ended up buying another awesome rug at a different sale, and I think if I brought them both home my wife might’ve boiled me alive. (Like a lobster.)

Later in the day, I came across…

Puzzles that you’re explicitly supposed to solve while pooping,

The “religious objects puzzle cube” (which I’m guessing you probably shouldn’t solve while pooping), and

What The Hall of Presidents at Disney World is gonna look like in a few years if the economy doesn’t pick up.

Also this:

I can’t believe it took them this long to think of putting time on a clock. (Also it’s a little disconcerting that even on the packaging it’s flashing 12-something. Also why does it eat paper.)

And at the last yardsale of the day, I saw:

LOVE.

But wait, there’s more!

In honor of my new affiliates Left At The Thrift Store and ThriftHorror—and also because most people decided not to have sales this week, because the skies were threatening to derecho all over us—I swung by the local thrift shop. (Which, by the way, I’d totally recommend to ANY fellow Connecticutensians out there. I don’t want to mention its name because they might find this site and discover what a total creepazoid I am, but it’s clean, it has quality merchandise, and—most importantly—it isn’t a total mess like a lot of literally all the other thrift shops. It’s in Ansonia and it has the word “sister” in its name.)

I gotta say, I was pretty psyched by their t-shirt selection today:

This is from when Linda McMahon—yes, the former CEO of World Wrestling Entertainment, the same company that turns incest and necrophilia into fun family entertainment—was running for Senate. It was far from the grossest shirt I found, though:

They were also selling this statue, which at first I thought was a pile of writhing tentacles reaching out to grab you from underneath a calming zen garden:

…but I’m pretty sure it’s just a faux aloe plant. Speaking of statues, this other one I saw depicted Santa Claus rubbing his butt on things:

Finally, here’s one to go out on:

Another one of those puns that don’t quite get what puns are (rather than the beary good ones I come up with). Someone thought up the hilarious play on words “bearadise” (which of course works very well because “bear” and “para” rhyme) and then to justify it, carved a picture of a bear. This is what passes for high comedy in the arts-and-crafts circuit.

Total spent: $2. (…Technically, $22, but I didn’t think anyone wanted to hear about the gigantic flat-screen monitor I bought to finally turn my desk into GIGADESK, with monitors just spilling out everywhere, like so many writhing tentacles.)