Tuesday, October 19, 2010
We went to Altoona, Pennsylvania last week to go thrifting (much like shopping but for clothes that people have already worn!). The place we went is called "Salvation Army" which is much like a GoodWill, except with three more syllables. I woke up at the crack of dawn (11AM) slightly hung over from all the whippets I did the previous night at a co-workers birthday party, sporting the same yoga pants along with an over-sized sweatshirt that had been given to me the night before by a so-called friend (I will call him "Ronald" for the sake of anonymity), perfect attire for a rainy day in Altoona. Or so I thought. (I say this because later on the way back to State College I find that there is a large undefinable scum crusted on the inside hood of Ronald's seemingly innocent sweatshirt. I thank the heavens above for buying another over-sized shirt at Salvation Army and put it on, cursing Ronald and vowing never to associate with him again!) Walking up the stairs, I notice an empty Sugar-free Redbull perched on the coffee table in my townhostel. I pick it up and find that it's empty.. I begin crushing the can with my bare paws, enraged that someone dared to drink my LAST redbull of the 24-pack (THAT WAS 22 DOLLARS AT GIANT). I look to the left of the table and find my pack of Marlboro's. I rush to smoke a cigarette -- finally a vice that can alleviate the whippets. My last cigarette. My only cigarette. I open the crushed pack to find *someone* has smoked it. They have sabotaged me. I contemplate breaking windows and throwing pillows, but I know that nothing good will come of it. Instead I make an executive decision to hold my frustrations until I can get attention from Tom and Elizabeth, who are waiting outside for me. I greet the groggy couple and slouch in the backseat, all the while sighing incredibly loudly and shaking my head back and forth, waiting for them to ask me what's wrong. Only they never do. Tom starts playing Big Willy Style on the CD player, Elizabeth is consumed by road rage. I am alone, and the Will Smith record is so loud that no one could even hear me if I tried to complain. When the music finally ceased, I begin to unveil my plight of the redbull and cigarettes, how *someone* is trying to take the only things that matter from me. Elizabeth suggests that we go to the store to collect my items... and I grudgenly agree... I just wanted MY redbull.. Tom tells me I have to buy him coffee because I allegedly promised, so I called him a prince. He got really upset. Insults were thrown. Elizabeth and I called Tom "Bitch" and "Dick" seemingly simultaneously. We all want to get breakfast so we stop at the only place we trust, Sheetz. Before entering the establishment I suggest a group hug. We hug it out. Elizabeth starts shaking uncontrollably and is very embarrassed to be hugging in front of such a fine eatery such as Sheetz, so we enter and get food. Tom forgets to buy coffee. I get three drinks. Elizabeth is speedy as ever with the MTO machine. We get our breakfasts and leave for Altoona.. only to find out there is American cheese on Tom's sandwich. I felt really sorry for the guy. Despite our Sheetz experience being less than kind, things were so much brighter then. On the road again. We passed a hitchhiker who nodded uncontrollably. Fleetwood Mac was playing so that was cool, only I couldn't hear anything Elizabeth and Tom were saying. Not like they were talking to me anyway. The car ride didn't take very long though, and we were soon in Altoona. This is a good thing because Elizabeth had a car appointment at 4pm back in State College, and it was now 2:00. Elizabeth admits she has no idea where Salvation Army even is, and assumed it would be right there waiting for us after we got off I-99. I try to use my Droid to look it up, but end up just confusing everyone! The gas light comes on. A local Altoonean is getting arrested in a blue van. We find the donation center and I boldly ask the rugged man smoking a cigarette outside for directions. He tells us brief and not very thorough directions, and I literally cannot understand him at all, except when he says that he's originally from Pittsburgh (they call it Picksburgh here). So we go towards Sam's club like we think he said, and find out that Altoona is actually home to the headquarters of Sheetz which is why there's roughtly 450 in the area. During this stressful time, Tom sees his "salvation" at Petco, and suggests instead of going shopping for clothes we purchase toys for Miep. Tensions were high. Saw signs that read "Tumor Killing" and "Intentional Colding". Altoona is frightening. Finally, we find Salvation Army. And it really was our sweet salvation.