Thank you for shopping at Value Ape!

Holiday Hours!!!

No, we’re not staying open later for you last-minute shoppers, we’re cutting down  for two days for “family time.” (eewie)

- Wednesday, December 24: open until 8. (So if any of you jerks try to come in at 10, we won’t be here!)

- Thursday, December 25 (Christmas, y00!): CLOSED!

So enjoy the holdays and whatnot, and please don’t try to break into the store while we’re not here. (Or I’ll get our trusty watchdog Mary to bite your head off! [whadd’am I kidding, she’s not trusty at all])

—May-BO (trying to act like Wade since this is HIS account)

Sunday, Sept. 21: FIELD DAY OH-EIGHT, MUTHAS!!!

* * * * *
Fred was kind enough to organize this year’s installment of FIELD DAY — similar to the grade school event, ‘cept fer the fact that we’re all old and brittle now, and the complaints of SORENESS that will inevitably continue on into subsequent weeks.

But whatev, it’s fun, free…and lots of other good stuff that I’m too tired to write about presently; point is, YOU SHOULD GO.

Okay, you think about that and ah’m gonna hand the mic over to Fred’s post.
Seeya Sunday!
- - W.
* * * * *

Hosted By: Fred Kerner
When: Sunday Sep 21, 2008
at 11:00 AM
Where Tyler Park
101 Swamp Road
Newtown, PA 18940
United States
Description:
Fred Kerner

Fred writes: I’ll probably blast these out more frequently as the event approaches. We need excitement. Feel free to invite anyone who’s not a bigger jerk than Nick Waskie.

* * * * *

mm, that’s pretty fuckin’ cold — I’d like to apologize on Fred’s behalf for the rude comment regarding Waskie’s supreme jerkiness; I’m sure that there’re PLENTY of bigger jerks than Nick, such as… ummm… …welll, there’s…uhhh…Okay, I can’t think of anybody off-HAND, but — but there’s GOTTA be SOMEbody, right? Right????

[[crickets]]

* * * * *

LABOR DAY STRIKES AGAIN!!

Just wanted ta let everyone know that the new shipment for this week is delayed until THURSDAY, SEPT. 4 due to the Labor Day “holiday”.  Seriously, how is it that Diamond Comic Distributors keeps closing on all these lame holi-wannabes?  What’s next, they shut down the works for Secretary’s Day, or National Take A Crap In Your Pants Day?? (well, I suppose that one would be justified… )

But anyway, stuff’ll be in bright an’ early on Wednesday — come in then, there’s still some pie left!

- - W.

R.S.V.P. Required

37words:

In answer to your recent inquiry:
The gods were planning a huge banquet – the most exquisite dishes, party games the likes of which mortals couldn’t even conceive, and a guestlist that made the modern-day Oscars “Red Carpet” look like Skid Row. They went as far as sending out gold-engraved invitations via carrier pegasus. Everyone was to show up in their very finest togas — it would be the jammy-jam to end all jammy-jams.
But then the God of Great Ideas said: “Hey, I’ve got a great idea –- let’s skip this whole shebang and just have corn fritters!!”
And it was good.

Hitchcock on the Highway

37words:

Birds were attacking a corpse.

Or at least what appeared to be a corpse… It just turned out to be some massive loaves of bread on the side of the road; guess they had fallen off a truck (not in the “hot-property, seemingly stolen” sense, but actually fell off a delivery vehicle.)

I should go back to that stretch of I-95 to see what OTHER goods had been left behind by loose latches and faulty hatches; maybe it’s like the Philly version of the Bermuda Triangle, where things just end up “lost”. Perhaps I’ll find what I’VE been looking for…

Jeez, some people, y’know?

37words:

Oh, hey. Um, your ex-roomate called to congratulate you on winning “World’s Biggest Dumbfuck.” Again. Wow, four years in a row, that’s…impressive? Anyways, I wrote his number down on a napkin, but I, uh, kinda used it to sop up some Dr. Pepper I spilled…on that CD player of yours I had borrowed. Yeah, I told you I was taking it, remember? Yes I did. Well, whatever, I’m sure he’ll call back; I told him you’d be back probably around 10 or so. Okay, dude, sorry I can’t, like, memorize your entire schedule. Christ, you’re such a complete asshole sometimes!

Not today, Not EVER

37words:

This, for certain, will be my mostest fastest 37words yet — partly because I’m tired as a motherfuck and just wanna go ta bed, but mostly due to the fact that I’m imagining being chased by a saber-tooth tiger, and instead of running, I’m TYPING!!
[C’mon, type FASTER — HE’S RIGHT ON YOUR TAIL, MORON!!!]
And if I make a typo, it’s as if I tripped over a branch lying on the ground (we’re in the jungle, natch.)

ALMOST…THERE…

HAH! EAT IT, you big dumb extinct bastard! **PPPFFFTTTTT!!!**

“Clean Up in Aisle 5”

37words:

On my daily trip to the supermarket, I passed by some supermarket dudes talking and overheard “Yeah, I told them ‘I’m just doing Soap tonight. I’m doing Soap and then I’m DONE.’” I very briefly considered hovering to hear the rest of the story, but then quickly realized that that would be low, even for MY near-non-existent standards for entertainment.
I must confess, though, that I’ll always wonder just what exactly it was that finally prompted him to take his stand…and what would be the assuredly dire consequences for his insolence.
Supermarket dudes are hardcore, and that’s FO’ REAL, y0!

Silly to YOU, maybe, but not silly to me

37words:

This one’s got nothing at all to do with coffee-colored people; and now that I think about it, I’m a little disturbed that you would ask that in the first place — and I’m sure the coffee-colored people would agree with me. AT ANY RATE, Marge over at The Shoprite informs me that her husband’s prosthetic leg was indeed covered under warranty!
… . no, that’s not true, none of it is. In fact, Marge doesn’t even exist. (The Shoprite does, though — I can prove it with printed receipts.)
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some axes to grind.

I’m pretty sure there’s a snake in this very room

37words:

Mass genocide is just another way of saying “I love you, but I love them a lot less”
Two steps forward, three steps back (and that middle step is landing on my ballsack)
I don’t think dogs should use tampons but really I’m not an expert and maybe they should
When I hear the rattling in my chest it reminds me I was dumb to’ve swallowed all of that spare change
There’s no way Shelly Weisinger should’ve been 6th Grade President – I’m demanding a recount
How about this: what if it was really Conway Twitty who died for our sins?