Friday, July 13, 2012


(The "Creepy" Edition)

Hello. My name is Chris. I'm a
thriftaholic  a diehard, call-
in-sick, no-sleep-for-two-days,
-hot-meal thrift store addict 
and I don't deny it. In fact, I
confess — suffer from TSA
(Thrift Store Addiction).

I first realized that I potentially had developed a "problem" when store clerks began greeting me by name. And just this past week I received a personal email from a local store owner who expressed concern that I had not been in for a while. She further "encouraged" me to stop by and see her, ASAP. Oh sure, my story started out innocently enough, but now things are getting a little creepy.

All I ever desired was awesome hot
pants at affordable prices. Soon, my
life was coming apart at the seams.
The year was 2003. I was a fresh-faced 40-year-old divorcee with a bright future ahead of me. It was my first experience — a harmless experiment. Ah yes, I remember my very first thrift store purchase fondly — a pair of plaid capris, a slightly stained "I'm with Stupid" T-shirt and a "like new" cassette tape of Kenny Rogers Greatest Hits. It all felt so good, and I knew that I could handle it. But the "monkey" knew better. Before long, my life was spiraling out of control. I soon became a frequent "client" at various thrift store locations, eagerly taking advantage of weekly half-price and bag-for-a-buck specials. This quickly was becoming a major "dirty little secret" — one that I've only recently been able to share openly with others.

Thrift store marionettes
are plain creepy.
However, I also have noticed lately an alarming creepy-factor associated with the thrifting experience. Just yesterday, I paid a visit to one of my favorite hometown destinations. I won't reveal the shop's name, as I'd never drop a dime on a reliable "connection." Furthermore, I hope that what I have been observing recently is simply a figment of my imagination and not a dark reality of the thrifting lifestyle. FYI, here's what I observed during yesterday's outing.

As always, the place was packed — standing-room only. But everywhere I looked, everywhere I walked, I felt as if I was being watched and followed by the various creepy artifacts displayed throughout the store. From clown paintings to marionettes to china-type dolls, there was no escaping "them."

However, thrift store mannequin heads are perfectly normal. And like most normal people, I like to feel the skin — oh so gently. Oooh, I like the soft and pretty skin.

So, am I being paranoid? Do I have a problem? Should I be concerned? Should I seek professional help? What does it all mean? Does Ann Coulter really love me? Should I switch to decaf? Should I simply walk away and abandon this lifestyle? I'm SO confused!

Please feel free to weigh in on this and offer me your guidance, advice or any other personal insight.

-Christopher Long
(July 2012)



C'MON! -


  1. We hope you'll stop by and thrift with us next time you're in Calgary! We promise we don't have any creepy stuff. Just upscale and high quality goods at our place. :) Check us out on FB to see

    1. Awesome -- thanks for the invite! I'll check out the FB page. I look forward to visiting.