Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

There's a new SkyMall!

My magical tour of Long Island has come to an end, sadly. On the last day we went to some antique stores, posed with some roadside statuary, packed, and had a nice Italian dinner out. I saw a nice complete set of Pyrex Friendship mixing bowls that I almost bought, but they had a lot of wear for the price she was asking and then I'd have to pay to ship them on top of that, so they stayed right where they were, and I totally didn't spend the rest of the day sighing about how right I was not to buy them.

Totally.

Because I would never do that.

Yesterday I woke up, got ready, finished packing, had one last New York bagel, and went to the airport, where US Airways proceeded to spend the rest of the day jerking me around, rescheduling me, cancelling my flights, and getting me home three and a half hours late. Yesterday I managed to hit four different airports in one day for the second time on this trip, and only one thing managed to make me smile throughout my odyssey:

There's a new issue of SkyMall!

The last issue of SkyMall was filled with insane crap that no one needs, and when I started reading this issue I was almost disappointed to see that it seemed kind of toned down. Where was the crazy? What was I supposed to laugh at? Had they somehow become a regular, commonplace catalogue rather than a warehouse of insanity?

It turns out that I just wasn't reading closely enough on my first pass. That's the only way I could have missed things like...

The iPhone Sterilizer

skymall objects (1)

Do you ever look at your iPhone and think, "God, I wish I hadn't smeared that with feces"? Do you worry about the effect of harsh chemical disinfectants on it, but have to keep using them so that you can play Candy Crush while performing surgery? Did you let your child touch the screen with their jamhands? For only $50, SkyMall can make all of those problems go away.

Maybe you face some other, more terrible problem. Maybe you live a life without backup music, where you have to enter rooms quietly without a signature sound to alert your supporting cast that the star has arrived. Maybe you need...

A Door Guitar

skymall objects (2)

Yes, a door guitar. Sure, anybody can hang a bell from the doorknob, or walk in playing their own jaunty tambourine, but a door guitar will make you the envy of all of your friends and family members. The advertising copy advises you to "tune it to your favorite chord", but we all know that if you had any idea how to play that thing then you'd already have a guitar and you'd have better things to do with it than mount it over your doorway, so I say you just go ahead and use whatever tune it carries right out of the box. Hell, go all out and order it in a dark, rebellious black. Let everyone who visits know that you're a stylish loner, the kind of stylish loner who shops in the SkyMall catalogue.

If your visitors seem unimpressed with your door guitar, you may need something that really wows them. Something like...

A 2 and a Half Foot Wide Eagle

skymall objects (3)

It's not just vaguely patriotic, but also dangerous! Your lifelike, lovingly sculptured eagle statue features sharply pointed talons that extend "more than eight inches from the wall", creating an artistic menace like no other. If your guests aren't suitably impressed with your door guitar, all you have to do is scream, "Look over there!" and watch gleefully as they turn too fast and accidentally gouge their own eyes out on your eagle's "intricately sculpted" talons.

"But wait," you're probably thinking. "What if my offending guest isn't standing next to my deadly eagle?"

SkyMall has you covered. There's a special discount if you buy two or more. Why leave a spot uncovered by eagle glory?

Maybe you have other problems, though, besides a filthy phone, lack of entrance music, and a lack of dangerously pointy sculpture. Maybe you have too much self esteem, and don't feel bad enough about your body. Maybe you need...

A Globe Poncho

skymall objects (4)

For all those moments when you've thought, "God, I don't feel fat enough," SkyMall has just the thing. It's not just a poncho, the least flattering garment ever invented (and yes, I'm including the caftan, the muumuu, and the paper hospital gown with the flappy back), but it's a poncho with the entire planet printed on it. You'll be amazed at how much bigger you think your butt is when you realize that it's supporting the entire continent of Asia and that there still might be room on the side for some of Europe. Not only that, but wearing it to class is a great way to pass your geography final. The only thing you won't find on your poncho map is a belted waistline.

SkyMall: full of gifts that keep on giving.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Borders Watch 2011: My Week as a Vulture

On Monday I read a news story that Borders Books had failed to find a buyer, and was going to have to liquidate all stock and close all of their stores, forever. While this is a terrible thing, because it means that thousands of people are about to be out of work, it's also a pretty good thing for two reasons:

1) Of all the major chain bookstores, Borders is the one I will miss least. Every time I get a Borders gift card, I end up spending most of it online because I usually have trouble finding what I want in the store. I'm not asking for obscure books, either, like a Nine Gates or a Gutenberg Bible; I'm asking in December for a book that was on the New York Times bestseller list in October, and there's not a single copy in the store.

You know why?

Because the bookstore is full of crap that isn't books. The Borders by me has a book and magazine section, a CD section, a DVD and Bluray section, a toy department, a board games area, a coffee bar, a Burt's Bees health and beauty section, a stationery and greeting cards area, candles, backpacks and other apparel, calendars, a candy and snack aisle, and some register space where you can pay for something that, in all likelihood, probably is not a book. If I wanted a bunch of other crap, I would go to Target or Wal Mart or some other store that doesn't claim to be a bookstore.

2) Who doesn't love a sale? As an American, I would like more things, please, but I would also like them at bargain basement prices. With that in mind, I started my Borders stakeout on Monday night, keeping a close eye on the store by my house.

Monday, Day 1 of Borders Watch:

Given the freshness of the disaster news, I didn't expect to see any signs up yet, but I did want to go in and see if there was actually something in stock that I might want to buy at the end of the week. I settled on Chuck Palahniuk's Tell-All, because it just came out in paperback, they have a lot of copies and should still have them by the end of the week, and the cover art looks like Lana Turner. You know how I love having dinner with Lana.

After scoping out both locations in the store where copies of the book were displayed, and then making a quick circuit of the bargain books section to see if there was anything I might want even cheaper, I left, content to circle the parking lot like a vulture circling a cowboy crossing the desert with no canteen.

Tuesday, Borders Watch Day 2:

I circled the parking lot again after work, doing a slow driveby of the front doors like a high school mean girl trying to intimidate my rival for prom queen. I'm out here, Borders, and I'm waiting.

There are no signs on the front of the store, but there are also no outside display tables or racks near the front, something I've only seen missing in bad weather. I'm not sure if it means something or if it's just close to closing time because I stayed after work too late.

On the way back to my apartment, I thought for a moment of the time way back in the fall of 1999 when my friend Donna and I went to the closing sale at Stop and Go Video in Cortland, NY. Stop and Go was a really old school video store (they all were back then), a Mom and Pop operation where all of the video boxes were on shelves with clothespins clipped to the front of the shelf. If you wanted that movie, you took the clothespin with the number on it to the counter and they got it for you. If the box was sitting there with no clothespins, all the copies were rented.

Blockbuster and Hollywood Video came to Cortland at about the same time, closer to campus than Stop and Go, and that pretty much killed the store. Video Circus (a slightly seedy video store which had a back room and an "erotic thriller" section that had every Shannon Tweed movie, ever; Shannon Tweed movies are an oddly fascinating exercise in discovering how many different jobs require you to take your top off, and you have to wonder if she just started inserting those scenes into the movies herself out of force of habit) was still open the last time I was in town, because it was in walking distance of campus and none of the other stores were, but the Stop and Go sale was sudden and frantic. They announced it in the morning, and when we got there at lunchtime the parking lot was packed. Inside, people were running to and fro with handfuls of clothespins, and the lines at the counter snaked almost to the front doors. I was enraged to discover that someone had the clothespin for the second half of "The Stand", but the first half was still there, because seriously? Who does that? Who buys half of a miniseries? What am I supposed to do with the other half?

Annoyed and mildly enraged, I ended up with The House of Yes, Freeway, Nowhere, and The Last Supper, none of which I still own because I no longer have a VCR. Still, I've always been a little miffed that I didn't get that copy of "The Stand".

That's not going to happen this time, Borders. I'm getting that copy of Tell-All even if I have to pry it from some other shopper's cold dead hands.

Wednesday, Borders Watch Day 3:

There were still no tables in front of the store, but still no signs on the windows. The parking lot was very full, though, so I was intrigued enough to go in. As I parked, a family of little people started getting into the car next to mine, and like an Ancient Greek I wondered if it was an omen. One of them had on a neck brace, which seemed even more tragic somehow than a neck injury normally would.

Inside the store, nothing was on clearance yet, but an employee was going through all of the front tables, book by book, and removing the "Preferred Members save an extra 20%" stickers from each book, implying that the whole store will go on percentage instead. I scoped out my copies of Tell-All to see how many were left and then left the store, biding my time.

Thursday, Borders Watch Day 4:

There still aren't any tables or racks out in front of the store. I guess Borders doesn't do that anymore, in their decline. The parking lot was very full, more so than yesterday, and it occured to me that I might not be the only vulture circling in the parking lot. I made a point of trying to remember some of the cars, to see if they also came tomorrow. As I drove past the front on my now familiar loop I noticed a small sign on the door, and two older ladies standing in front of it, reading.

A sign! This could be it!

I immediately pulled into a space and walked quickly to the door, but was sadly disappointed to read that it was not a store clearance notice. It was close, though:

Effective July 22:

-All sales are final
-Checks will no longer be accepted
-Borders Reward Points can no longer be used


Intrigued, I went inside to see if anything had changed since yesterday. All of the discount stickers were gone from the books except for the very front table, where the brand new bestseller releases are, and the books on the bargain racks. Everything else was apparently going to start at cover price before discounts were applied, which would be a little annoying if the closing discount was lower than the discount I would have gotten on Tuesday.

Also, there were still plenty of copies left of Tell-All, so I left the store with confidence, and decided that if the discount was really good, I would also look for In the Garden of Beasts when the sale finally started.

"Finally" would apparently be Friday, July 22.

Friday, the end of Borders Watch

As I approached Borders today, I could see cars parked all the way out to the street, and between the trees I glimpsed the sign:

borders closing

The end had arrived.

It was time to get my copy of Tell-All.

The stack on the front table actually was depleted when I got inside the store, noticing on the way in that the small sign from yesterday had been replaced with giant window covering "Up To 40% Off!" signs instead. My slightly discounted (seriously, how can you have a going out of business sale at a bookstore and only have fiction 10% off?) copy of Tell-All safely in hand, I went to go look for a copy of In The Garden of Beasts, but was unsure of whether it would be in the 20% off History section or in the 10% off Biography section, since it was a story about a specific family. I couldn't find it in either section, nor on the 10% off New Hardcovers rack, so I went to the computers to look it up.

And discovered that they've shut off all the in-store computers.

Each monitor has a sign taped to it that says "We can no longer look up or order titles. Please ask an associate for help." This makes no sense to me. They could look up titles yesterday, and nothing changed between yesterday and today except that they hung up some signs. Suddenly they can no longer keep track of their stock, and even more surprisingly, the staff at Borders is going to suddenly be helpful after the ridiculously bad customer service I've received there in the past.

A while ago, I went to Borders to see if they had a copy of Queenpin. Even though it had just come out they didn't have any in stock, because they needed shelfspace in the bookstore for Legos or scented candles or something, so I went to ask if I could special order a copy.

"Oh, sure! Of course!" the guy at the information desk said. "Let me take you to the special order computer."

We then walked across the store to a computer that connected to the internet, and the guy directed me to Borders.com. I then got to look up my own book, enter my own ordering information, and have it shipped to my apartment, just like I could have done at home on my couch without even going to Borders. Thanks, Borders employee, for doing the bare minimum. If you'd at least ordered a copy to the store, I would have had to come back to the store to get it, increasing the chance that I wandered the aisles and bought something else. Instead I went home, waited for my book to arrive, and resolved to just order from Amazon from now on.

There's probably a lesson there about what went wrong at Borders as a whole, but I decided not to dwell on it and, instead, to go find an employee and ask for help in locating my book.

"Oh, we sold out of that about three weeks ago," she said, shrugging, and not asking if there was anything else she could help me find.

"Really?" I asked, taking on my comically haughtiest tone as I looked around at the line of shoppers picking over Borders' corpse and the limply hanging discount signs. "Well! I'll never shop here again!"

She looked at me for a second, until I smiled, and then burst out laughing.

"Yeah, I guess you won't. At least not after next week."

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

"I carried a watermelon."

There's this boy that I kind of like. He's not actually a "boy", by which I mean that he's not under the age of eighteen, not that he's not actually a male, because I think he is even though I haven't officially checked or anything. After tonight, of course, I never actually will, because I ran into that boy that I like at the store, and managed to grind the conversation to an awkward halt in under a half dozen sentences.

Yeah.

I've been running into this boy, who I'm guessing is only a little younger than me, like maybe 30 or 31, at various events and meetings and things since about November or so. Whenever I see him somewhere, though, we always seem to be in passing. One of us is leaving while the other is arriving, or one has to go as soon as whatever is going on is over, or one of us is trapped in the corner talking to a needy friend who can't seem to take the hint that the reason why I'm looking over your shoulder is that the boy that I like is over there and now he's about to head out the door and you won't stop talking about your cat and your car and whatever the hell else it is that you won't stop babbling about while he's leaving yet again without me getting to talk to him.

Not that I would talk to him, anyway, other than to say hi or something, because I am horribly awkward around boys that I think are cute and they always have to talk to me first. This is what happens when you don't come out until after college. Everybody else got to perfect their flirting skills in high school, but you were busy trying to figure out how to pretend to be straight and never learned how to chit chat with boys. Instead, you just run into them at the store and manage to destroy any chance that you might have had to ever talk to him again in just under six sentences.

Here's what happened:

I rounded the corner of the aisle at the store, slowly pushing my cart and wondering if buying a bag of BBQ flavored chips for dinner was a good idea or a bad idea (I decided it was a bad idea, mostly because I was in such a hurry to leave the store and run home to finish dying a thousand deaths of mortification and embarassment that I forgot that I had ever wanted BBQ chips to begin with) when I looked up, and there he was! The boy that I like and never talk to!

O! M! G!, right? Since I'm bald now I no longer have to think, "Oh, God, is my hair ok?" but I did have a fleeting thought of, "Crap! Do I look dumpy in this outfit? And is it sexy dumpy, or homeless bum dumpy? Maybe I don't look dumpy at all? I have cute shoes on. Oh, God, please let him look at my feet," and then it was too late to think anything because there he was, and when he saw me he smiled really widely and his eyebrows went up and I probably looked like Veronica seeing Kevin with the little hearts exploding out of my eyeballs.

"Hey, you." Sentence #1.

"HI!" Overenthusiastic sentence #2.

"What's going on? I haven't seen you in, like, forever." Sentence #3 and #4. Also, you think about how often you see me?

"Oh, just, you know, doing some shopping. I need toilet paper, real bad." Sentence #5 and # OH MY GOD, WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST SAY?

There it is. I might as well have just told him that I carried a watermelon

"I carried a watermelon"

and then just let someone put Baby in the corner.

As soon as I said it, the two of us immediately glanced down, into my cart, where the only grocery I had picked up in the entire store was a huge economy twelve pack of toilet paper. Because, you know, I don't just need to buy toilet paper. I need to buy it REAL BAD. Like there's an emergency at my house, the kind of emergency that makes you need toilet paper REAL BAD. And it's the only thing I need. There's nothing else in my cart but this huge pack of toilet paper that I need REAL BAD because not only do I need it REAL BAD but I need a lot of it, at least twelve rolls, and even that might not be enough, because I need it REAL BAD. Not just the regular kind of need that everybody has but the kind of REAL BAD need that implies that I'm going to leave the store and drive home as fast as I can so that I can use the hell out of this toilet paper.

He looked me. I looked at him. He looked at my toilet paper again.

"Well, I'll let you finish shopping. It was good to see you."

"Yeah, you, too." Also, I wish I was dead, but I'll leave that out, because I've said enough.

You just go on your way, trying to imagine why I could possibly need toilet paper REAL BAD, and I'll be over here trying to imagine why I said it.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

A Hideous, Terrible Beauty

Art speaks to people, but it doesn't always speak to everyone. When you see something you like, though, it calls out to you. It strikes a chord somewhere, and you feel like you have to have it. You may not be able to explain why, or even want to, but you just know that some things are meant to be together, like peanut butter and chocolate or me and the hideous, terrible clock that I bought today:

orange clock

Yes, I own that now, and am proudly displaying it on top of a bookcase in front of the window.

It's a little over a foot tall, roughly the size of a box of breakfast cereal. It's molded of hard orange resin, some sort of plastic, and the mold was filled with decorative gravel before they poured the plastic in. Also, it weighs a ton. As a rough guess, it feels about the same as three or four bricks taped together. I can't find a manufacturer's stamp on it anywhere, and have no idea how old it is, but it feels kind of 70's to me. Someday, if I have a fireplace and mantel, I will put this clock upon it, and be happy.

You're probably wondering how this happened.

This morning, Kristin and I decided that we would hit the flea market before grabbing lunch and heading up to the ICU for visiting hours. I haven't been to the flea market since 2008, although I've driven past a number of times, and I was really disappointed. There were hardly any booths, possibly because of the rain, and the things for sale looked even worse than usual. It was more depressing than interesting:

domestic artifacts

and Kristin wanted to leave before we even got halfway through. I was ok with that, as the comic book dealer that was there last time was now gone. In an effort to salvage some of our morning, though, I suggested we go swing by Nostalgia, a store that Elizabeth said we would like.

Elizabeth was right.

They had shelves and shelves of vintage, antique, and not quite either objects:

inside nostalgia

dishes and glassware

nautical theme

typewriter keys

the last paint-by-number supper

We stayed for about two hours, looking at the good, the bad, the odd:

fuzzy maries

the really odd:

red owl

and in the case of my clock, the strangely endearing. They had a clear one in one booth and the orange one in another, and as soon as I saw it I had to have it. Thank God it was cheap. Kristin agreed that I should buy it if I wanted it even though it is hideous, but she really has no room to talk.

She has this on hold:

flamenco lamp

I'm assuming it speaks to her, but in comparing it to my clock, well, I just don't see it.

Monday, August 4, 2008

flea market!

We lived in Tennessee and Kentucky when I was little, and every few weeks my mom would bundle us up and take us to the flea market. I don’t remember them very well, but a few things stick out:

1) They were always outside. This also meant that they were usually hot and dusty, but when I was little that irritated me much less than it does now.

2) They had comic books. I used to buy “Swamp Thing” there, and thought it was awesome to just sit and go through the boxes and get a stack of comics for a dollar.

3) My mom bought doilies at one that we used on the coffee table and end tables for years afterward and probably still own.

When I moved back here I didn’t wait very long before I went to my first flea market, but it was different. It was inside, and there weren’t really that many interesting things, just tables and tables of homemade crafts, Tupperware, Avon, sample sized packs of medicine in Rubbermaid bins, and a lot of similar stuff that seemed like you could just get it at a dollar store or discount outlet. Not many antiques, or weird stuff from people’s houses, or the kind of atmosphere that I remembered. I found it disappointing and haven’t gone back to the Expo Center for another.

I never knew where the outdoor one was, though, until last week when my friend Lauren told me she was going to set up a table at one. She just got a new job on the west coast, so she’s trying to sell a lot of her stuff instead of packing and moving it, and I said I’d swing by and show some support.

It’s the flea markets I remember!

Acres of cars parked out front!

green acres flea market

Colorful, yet somehow sad, displays of unwanted goods!

garden of toys

And then there’s the oddities, the things you don’t ever see for sale anywhere else, like a vaguely blasphemous Virgin Mary beach towel:

towels

Nothing screams “Day at the beach!” more than a scantily girl slathered in cocoa butter and laying on Jesus’ mom as topless guys walk by and ogle her. It’s pretty much the definition of “wholesome family fun”.

More photos are on the photo page, including the live chickens, which disturbed me. My taking a picture of them disturbed the guy selling them even more, though, which makes me wonder about the legality of the whole thing. That’s probably also part of the fun of the outdoor flea market.