Saint Pius X

I cannot help saying that name in an utterly triumphant manner and also picturing Kurt Wagner when I do.  It's a pretty ridiculous name, as church names go.

This year Saint Pius, that wall crawling mutant, was pretty good to me, a mere human.  Check out these Christmas cuties.  Now, I'm not going to mince words here.  These look like ladies in drag.  Women in beards, Christmas carnival ladies.  But still cute, don't get me wrong.  I'm not here to judge. 50 cents for the lot.

Next is what I'm calling, Dave.  I know it's not The David's head.  But it looks similar.  And I'm calling him Dave.  Also, he is a perfume dispenser. 50 cents. 

I've never gotten there in time to get any jewelry worth having.  This time was different. Vintage cold cream container from a dresser set (25 cents), penny earrings ($2), 3D palm tree earrings($1), and some funky earrings with a Polynesian flair ($1).  I want nearly everything in my life to be Tiki these days.

I've saved the best for last.  You guys aren't even going to BELIEVE this story.  Or maybe you will.  Because, I admit, it's sort of boring for anyone else but me.  Probably.  For better or worse, here we go.

When I was a kid I had an ice cream cup.  A plastic cup shaped like an ice cream cone that had a part that fit over like a lid, shaped like mint ice cream.  Then a part that stacked on top of that, which looked like chocolate sauce.  The top bits had a hole in them wherein you could place a straw. 

Recently I started thinking about this cup.  Yearning after this cup.  I thought it had probably been made by Avon, as most of the items in my childhood were.  I looked everywhere for this cup, to no avail.  (And by "everywhere" we all know I mean, "the internet".)

But, people, people, get THIS.  On my way OUT of the Saint Pius sale, I swung by the plastic table.  The plastic table is strewn, piled even, with all manner of plastic kitchenware.  Plates and wine glasses mix with thermoses and silverware.  All plastic, all a colorful jumble.  And sitting on top of this glorious mess, what did I spy?

Yeah.

It's not the gorgeous mint ice cream cup from my childhood, but the strawberry version of the self-same cup instead.  I'll take it.  I'll take it and drink milk from it like I did just about every day of my young life.  And then I'll know happiness.

So, In Summary:

When Nightcrawler hands you a strawberry ice cream instead of a mint one,

you take that sucker.