Monday, September 17, 2007

T. G. I. M .

God I love Mondays, only because I get to see Phyllis Gabor's latest post. Phyllis and I have similarly trashy tastes, and if I weren't already married and didn't live thousands of miles from where ever the hell she lives, I would ask her to marry me. Then we could join our collections together and rule the world.

I've been shamelessly ripping off PG's "here-are-my-latest-flea-market-finds" posts for some time now. She takes the time to photograph and lovingly comment on her newest additions. Plus, she gets waaaay more comments than I do, which means either she's more popular or my readers are lazier (you know who you are).

So, with apologies to Phyllis, here's my latest post-weekend, Goodwill orgy dispatch. I hit the Eugene thrifts yesterday, and came up with some gold. I also found some stuff that made me want to cry (an Esquivel and two Martin Denny's in horrible shape).


Here's a very Nixon-looking Ed Sullivan looking none too pleased. I can't imagine why, because the record's great. C'mon, Ed!


Ah, that's better.


I love the outfits, the double-neck guitar/mandolin, and Rose Lee sittin' on a suitcase, but what I want to know is where can I get that bitchin' Dodge van?


This is the 2nd record I've bought this year that has a nude woman with a brass instrument on the cover. This will probably lead to my frantically searching record bins for more.


I love the biker bitch cover, but what I really want to see is the cat fight that ensued after the picture was taken.


I can't resist any album that touts "The Now Generation."


Surprise! It turns out to be cleancut, Bible-lovin' teens fighting to the death. I can't figure out if the large-headed gal is cheering or warning them of the evils of tug-of-war.

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