I met Norman Bates

Slowly but surely getting over the consumption/SARS/bird flu combo.

Saturday afternoon I went on a thrift store adventure with my roomate who was in search of some workpants for his waiter job. He reasoned that since they'll just get fucked up anyway, no use spending his hard earned money on a new pair. After enduring the stench and filth of 3 different stores, as well as discovering a used tighty whitey section (gross), we happened upon a place next to the DAV that advertised vintage jewelry and clothing. I knew something was fishy when I walked in and saw there was no electricity. After the owner said he was liquidating his deceased mother's collection, he starting spewing nonsense immediately. "Some of the jewelry dates back to the Titanic era. This here (moldy, threadbare, homemade-looking) jacketdates back to the Colonial period. It would go for $600 dollars on Ebay." His bullshit continued incessantly while I tried to feign interest in his crappy, musty wares. I thought at any moment he would appear Norman Bates style in one of his mother's wigs and dresses and murder us because everything he said was completely insane. It was the most tragic experience I've had in quite awhile. It wasn't just that I was scared of him - I felt sorry for the guy. The building was falling apart, the jewelry was crappy, the clothes stunk, but he thought he could make them desirable by making up unbelievable bullshit. My roomate bought an "authentic Harley-Davidson T-shirt from the 70's, that people would surely try to buy off his back it was so rare and valuable.