I used to shop at Walmart for clothes because I couldn't afford anything else, but these days it seems that inflation has dragged even Walmart out of my range. Suddenly the limited budget I have to spend on clothes is only enough to cover the basic necessities, socks, underwear, bras, and things like that. My shirts and pants are getting quite ragged and worn out, and I had a grand total of $20 to spend on clothing.
So, after many years of shopping at Walmart exclusively, I have gone back to buying at Thrift Stores, and I am rediscovering my love of bargain hunting there. I went to a locally run Thrift Store and a Goodwill Store today with $20.00 in my pocket, hoping to find something to replace the items in my wardrobe that are getting ragged.
For LESS than $20.00 I got:
Books
-Left Behind #1 by Tim LaHaye & Jerry B. Jenkins
-Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne
-What They Don't Always Teach You at a Christian College by Keith Anderson
(my mom had me beat in this category...she bought 8 books)
Clothes
-A nearly new black long-sleeve shirt
-A cozy new golf jacket (and ironically, I never play golf)
-A warm and cozy red sweater that I really love =)
-A rich purple colored crew neck t-shirt
-A lavender colored cashmere sweater
Items
-A hanging shower organized (hung over the showerhead to hold things...our old one was getting very rusty)
-A strong and stable CD rack (the ones I currently use keep falling over)
All that I bought with the $20.00 I had in my pocket, and I still had change left to drop into my "change piggy bank" when I got home.
If Walmart wants to go and price everything beyond the range of your average college student, then to heck with them, we'll do what it takes to survive, and we will rejoice in the glorious bargains to be found in the bowels of Goodwill's clothing rack. =)
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Adventures in College: Part 1
In my college career thus far (I'm in the middle of my third semester), I have had a grand total of two classes that I've absolutely hated.
Over the course of those mind-numbingly boring or outright bad classes, I dreamed up a simple little ditty, sung to the tune of that old "school days" song...
School Days, School Days,
Good ol' Screw the Rules Days
Reading and Writing and 'Rithmatic
Sleep to the Tune of the Teacher's Lips
And that's how some days at college feel. Still, its not all bad. Where else can you get such good, high quality sleep?
Over the course of those mind-numbingly boring or outright bad classes, I dreamed up a simple little ditty, sung to the tune of that old "school days" song...
School Days, School Days,
Good ol' Screw the Rules Days
Reading and Writing and 'Rithmatic
Sleep to the Tune of the Teacher's Lips
And that's how some days at college feel. Still, its not all bad. Where else can you get such good, high quality sleep?
Monday, February 19, 2007
The Pointless Story
The Pointless Story
by Jenny M.
This is the pointless story about a pointless girl living a pointless life in a not so pointless world.
When I say pointless, I do not say it in the traditional sense meaning, “devoid of use” or “without purpose.” I say “pointless” in the literal sense of the word, meaning she has no points.
Her eyes are like great round saucers, never deviating from the sphere, never even daring to show such a shocking and tactless thing as a point.
Her fingers, like her toes, had a length no longer than their width, and they have the same coloring of soft, round peaches, without the fur.
Does she have pointed legs, you ask? That I do not know. She is never caught without her large, bell-shaped skirt covering her from the waist to the toes, and whatever points that lie underneath, if any, are expertly concealed.
She stands in sharp contrast to the rigid, straight-edged world all round her. Some say that she needn’t even walk, for she is round enough to roll like a boulder in an accursed temple of doom, like a ball in a child’s careless game.
She hears them snicker as she waddles on by.
“What a stupid looking blob that thing is,” a teenage boy whispers.
“She must be an American,” his companion replies, hoping to delight in a look of embarrassment on her face.
But she does not waver. In fact, it seems that she has not even heard their cruel jests, though in reality this is far from the truth. Disappointed by their failure to illicit a reaction, the boys begin to follow her, taunting her with the worst insults they can dream up.
Still, she does not react.
“Dammit!” the elder of the boys curses. “What’s wrong with this crazy pig?”
Desperately, the boys run in front of her and stand in her path, confronting the great mass of flesh and bone with their hostile words.
“Hey you!” they scream. “Why don’t you listen to us?! We’re talking to you, you fat lard!”
It is only in this moment that they realize their great error. She is rolling towards them fast, and with the momentum she has built she is not going to be stopping anytime soon.
They turn to run, but it is too late. To this day all that is left of them is a greasy smudge on the sidewalk.
by Jenny M.
This is the pointless story about a pointless girl living a pointless life in a not so pointless world.
When I say pointless, I do not say it in the traditional sense meaning, “devoid of use” or “without purpose.” I say “pointless” in the literal sense of the word, meaning she has no points.
Her eyes are like great round saucers, never deviating from the sphere, never even daring to show such a shocking and tactless thing as a point.
Her fingers, like her toes, had a length no longer than their width, and they have the same coloring of soft, round peaches, without the fur.
Does she have pointed legs, you ask? That I do not know. She is never caught without her large, bell-shaped skirt covering her from the waist to the toes, and whatever points that lie underneath, if any, are expertly concealed.
She stands in sharp contrast to the rigid, straight-edged world all round her. Some say that she needn’t even walk, for she is round enough to roll like a boulder in an accursed temple of doom, like a ball in a child’s careless game.
She hears them snicker as she waddles on by.
“What a stupid looking blob that thing is,” a teenage boy whispers.
“She must be an American,” his companion replies, hoping to delight in a look of embarrassment on her face.
But she does not waver. In fact, it seems that she has not even heard their cruel jests, though in reality this is far from the truth. Disappointed by their failure to illicit a reaction, the boys begin to follow her, taunting her with the worst insults they can dream up.
Still, she does not react.
“Dammit!” the elder of the boys curses. “What’s wrong with this crazy pig?”
Desperately, the boys run in front of her and stand in her path, confronting the great mass of flesh and bone with their hostile words.
“Hey you!” they scream. “Why don’t you listen to us?! We’re talking to you, you fat lard!”
It is only in this moment that they realize their great error. She is rolling towards them fast, and with the momentum she has built she is not going to be stopping anytime soon.
They turn to run, but it is too late. To this day all that is left of them is a greasy smudge on the sidewalk.
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