T-Shirt Rack Diving

One of my favorite racks in the thrift shop holds t-shirts. You never know if you're going to find six hot pink shirts commemorating the 2004 Johnson Family Reunion or a handful of brewery tees retired after a single night on a bar wench's torso.

Here are a few memorable finds.

Found this one in Size XL:

Might start by sharing that fourth hot dog.

And this creamsicle beauty:

Looks like somebody skimped on the translation job here.

And then this head-scratcher, merging two seemingly dissimilar elements:

"Business in the front, party in the back" sounds like a typical mob business.

There's really no telling what you'll find on the rack...

Spine Reading

You might say I'm a bit of a reader. (Though, full disclosure: I was a couple books shy of my 40-book goal for last year.)

I'm not picky -- I read billboards on road trips, storefronts in town, realtor mailers featuring the inexplicably popular fist-under-the-chin pose, etc. And when I'm near a bookshelf, you best believe I'm going to peruse the titles.

Hilarity often ensues.

So big it's 72pt.

Sauntering through shelves of books, I discover a strange juxtaposition of elements.

An authority on fiction.

And seemingly-significant adjacencies.

Bake poetry at 350°F.

Other times, it's a blend of confusion and intrigue:

Probes & Prayers.

But all too soon, my waltz through the words is over.

[Insert pause here.]

My attention quickly returns to my appetite.

Om nom nom. Repeat as necessary.

Sightseeing

I wasn't sure I'd get something published before the clock struck midnight, but it turns out I've got 10 minutes to blow on my lunch break. (Very apropos, this turn of phrase.)

When I stop into these thrift stores (does it count as "stopping in" when you spend upwards of two hours there?), I like to check out the discarded dishes and mugs. A few years back, I found a three-handled "safety" mug for my dad -- which was relevant because he's a safety director and because Mom's diminutive for him is "Mr. Safety" (or, if she's feeling saucy, he's promoted to Captain).

I thought that would be the apogee of my mug adventures. But it seems I was wrong. I imagine you can follow the thought process without much input from the Mrs:

Um, what is that? 

No, really...what is that? 

Oh, of course. (They don't call it the Taint of the Middle East* for nothing.)

*Pretty sure no one calls it this, with the possible exception of my friend Shaun.

Not what I planned, but I owe you something

The post title gives you as much as you need for an introduction. Now it's time to dig into some of the photos I've been hoarding all this time. Don't blame me if it's not funny; I didn't post them before for good reason (maybe). Today...you get six photos, for the six paragraphs in the previous words-only post. Let's see what I can come up with after exerting my writing talents so much, so recently.

Not quite sure why I'm taking up space with the above photo. I found this shirt on the rack at DEAL$ (a store I just made up because I can't remember where I found this shirt and for some reason I've decided to make a big deal out of it rather than just moving on with the sentence that I began two lines ago) and my mind flashed back to my high school band nerd days. Ah, the good ol' days...when I had my first taste of unpopularity. Nah, despite the plumes and itchy uniforms I had a strange affinity for marching around on a field and tooting into a horn (at least one of these activities I still participate in). For some reason, I enjoyed spending 12 straight hours full of repeat signs with a bunch of sweaty band nerds. I even convinced my parents to buy me a "Clarinets Rock" shirt or something...which I donned for the same event at which it was purchased, never to wear it again. I suppose it ended up on a rack at a DEAL$ (same parenthetical note applies) in Indiana and became someone's work shirt for sweaty days behind a lawnmower or paintbrush or something. These days, my clarinet sits in its case begging to be played (which, looking back several sentences, suggests that I habitually march around a football field to entertain myself) and the BAND in my life is actually one (or two or three) in which my husband plays the drumset. I have taken my act offstage, playing roadie when I join the gang at their gigs. Maybe one day I'll do something else with music (aside from singing to karaoke) but for now, I'm content to just move on to the next photo.

You bet it's a camper's paradise. Dam!

So there's a nuance here...a "Memorial" is not a "Commemorative" thing, per se... but I just don't know what else you would do for fun at Donner State Park.

A very clever tennis t-shirt idea, but also a bit depressing. I definitely should have bought this one. (Maybe next time I visit Deal$...)

Yes, I'm pretty cool. And yes, I work Home Depot. But no, I did not have any intention of telling the world about it on my off-days.

I'm a pretty big fan of The Sing-Off, NBC's acapella competition that I thought had been cancelled until I did a quick Google search a minute ago to verify that I hyphenated correctly. I will have to leave you now to get a full understanding of the situation because, otherwise, I might just have to continue writing with exclamatory punctuation rather than letters. Have fun with yourselves (or others if they're handy). Toodles.

Cute shirt?

Aww, what a cute shirt. (Aren't stick figures the cutest???)

But the words on the shirt don't seem to jive with the clip-art below them. It's not immediately apparent that the children belong on this shirt. I mean, what could they possibly have to do with Purdue Lab School?

A few options:

• Any child can aspire to a career in science!
• Discoveries made in Purdue's Lab School benefit all children!
• Children (or more appropriately, their guardians) can make a quick buck by becoming test subjects in Purdue's Lab School! Afraid of needles and nauseating chemicals? Don't worry -- that'll pass quickly and you'll be smiling in no time! (Side effects may vary.)

As it turns out, the creator of this T-shirt shortened the formal name of Purdue's facility....which "is a place where young children and families learn and grow. Actively engaging the world around them, each day children, teachers, parents, researchers, and university students play and work together, creating a safe, loving community of discovery" (check it).

The unabridged name, while more difficult for screen printers to handle (not to mention more expensive to produce), is definitely less disconcerting when paired with a graphic of two stick children:

I was torn between Were-Beast and Potland typefaces for obvious reasons. I find either would be appropriate. (As would the acquisition of PhotoShop -- if only to justify the 1790 fonts on my computer.)

Onward!

Ignorance is ignorant, ignoramus.

I already had enough crazy on my bookshelf in my copy of Dianetics -- school project; promise -- so I didn't bring this book home with me. I unfortunately can't tell you anything of the inside of the book.

Oh wait, sure I can: BULLSHIT.

Okay, maybe that's a little harsh. (But it's still true.)

In other news, this needs to come to Atlanta.

Meow?

It probably doesn't help anything that it's 10:30PM ... or that Blood Sugar Sex Magic is playing right now, but the above shirt makes abso-fucking-lutely no fucking sense.

Let's start with the easiest to explain: kitten in a box. Maybe your cat whored around the neighborhood and you ended up with a litter of kittens you don't need. So you're trying to give the kittens away. "Free kittens!" You might shout to passing cars from your driveway. (Because that wouldn't be weird or anything. I mean, what did people do before Craiglist?)

But you figure, while you're trying to discard unwanted pets in a way that ASPCA wouldn't send Sarah McLachlan to your door to protest, why not get rid of that German Shepherd head you had prepared by a taxidermist after Fluffy died -- because who wouldn't give their massive dog a frou-frou name; screw with conventions and upset others' expectations (my chihuahua's middle name is "Balls Deep").Why your taxidermist opted to give it a pre-recorded cat voice I couldn't tell you (a big Billy Bass fan?) but that shit just ups the value of that stuffed head. Shout to those honking cars louder, I say!

But you've got a challenge in the third box: a voice from the depths but no confirmation that your assumptions are correct. Your mind says "cat" but your heart thinks there could be something else in this box that will change the world. Do you offer this box to the world or pull it inside yourself and coo with joy?

Pander your goods to your heart's content, but when the shoppers come, how are you going to explain the words which form the theme of this fledgling market? I mean, there's no punctuation to guide you. What could it mean?!

FLY PAINTED FEATHERS! As in, hey those are some supafly feathers you have!

FLY, PAINTED FEATHERS! A poet who's trying too hard.

FLY-PAINTED FEATHERS I imagine these feathers are supaexpensive. Have they devised some way of training flies to paint things? Are there human artists that use flies in place of paintbrushes?

FLY: PAINTED FEATHERS! A repetition of the first idea, but that colon looks so fancy. (A phrase only used once before in a rapey colonoscopist's office.)

The only conclusions I can come to with the closing of this post are:

• Emily needs caffeine (or sleep)
•  I should have bought that crazy t-shirt

Who doesn't like a good how-to?

I was just saying the other day that criminals have it pretty rough.* I mean, they have to commit the crime and then evade the police. Phew! Help one out today by donning this amazing shirt. 

 
This image is located on the back of the shirt and is perfect viewing material for would-be muggers and rapists approaching from the rear. Not only do they get information on proper application of the technique; they also get a history lesson! I'm sure they'll thank your unconscious body (or corpse, depending "on the mood of the supplier") for the tips as they slink off into the night. 
  This shirt might be adapted for "Bro" wear aficionados -- just add some rhinestones and a gaudy design on the front panel. I admit that the technique may be difficult if the wearer suffers from Tree Trunk Neck syndrome, but surely it's worth the effort to thin the herd. #justsayin
*I never said this.