hnamrnrdk

so there we were. four boxeteers shopping for the 80s party at our favorite little thirft store, the sandpoint value village. now, sure, you are bound to run into a couple of strange people everytime you visit a value village, but this guy was pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty weird.

as we were sifting through the rows and rows of shoulder-padded jackets and high-waisted cargo shorts, marie informed us that burton was willing to wear a ridiculous speedo if we found one for him. so of course morgen and i rush off to the male swimsuit section to take a look at the selection. on our way there, we were discussing the word “ish” and how only people in the midwest (specifically minnesota) can understand the significance of this word. [ex. "oh, ish! i'm not going to eat that!"] as we were passing the jeans isle, a 20 something guy says “did you guys say minnesota?” and proceeds to name drop a bunch of towns in minnesota and shit about the vikes and whatnot. okay we get it… you’re from minnesota. we laugh awkwardly and then the dynamic of our relationship with this guy took a strange turn. he immediately started talking to us like we were old, dear friends. “hey. do these jeans look good? do you think they are too expensive?” we were polite and gave him advice about the jeans but then he got exponentially weirder. he licked two fingers on his hand and wiped morgen’s face with them, as if he were getting a smudge off or something. a very intimate thing. morgen barely lets me touch her arm, let alone essentially spit on her face, and we’re more than just friends if you know what i mean. with morgen’s very visible, unapproving reaction to this, we quickly walked away, trying to hold in our laughs and freaked out shrieks of “what the hells” and other such phrases until he was out of earshot. and then we let it all out…

and the worst part is… we didn’t even find a speedo for burton. what a waste of a day, huh?