The great unwashed

Okay, first off, this post is meant to be humorous, okay? A light-hearted look at Ithaca. Dear gay nude people and unwashed hippies: Please do not show up on my doorstep with pitchforks and torches. Thank you.

Now! Carrying on!

On Saturday I was up in Ithaca, doing a little nosing around. I found a parking access spot for the Six Mile Creek Natural Area and did a little walking, although not ENOUGH walking to get to the notorious gay-nude-sunbathing area. There are some things that can remain unseen, as far as I'm concerned.

And! I went to the Ithaca Antiques Mall, the best store in the world, where I snagged a wicker rocking chair for ten bucks. Who CARES if one of the armrests is duct-taped? Ten! Dollars! They even used white duct tape, to match the white-painted wicker, so you can't even TELL, really. Ha. And I went to the Ithaca Sal, and got a pair of Timberland hikers for seven bucks. This is the BEST time of year to hit the Ithaca thrift store, because all of the college students have gone home and left all their unwanted stuff behind in the dorms for the RAs to box up and haul to the Sal. And we are talking Cornell college students, who are all rich as lords and leave behind insanely cool stuff, like practically brand-new Timberlands. I love you, rich college students!

Where else? I went to the Dollar Store, because I cannot pass up a Dollar Store. And I went to Found, another cool antiques store. There is an exhibitor there who does wacked-out stuff with animal bones and skulls.

I wanted to go to the Johnson Museum (FREE!), but I was running close on time and I still had to hit the Commons. I had to go to Blue Bird Antiques, where I bought the stuffed porcupine. They still have the stuffed duck; he may be mine someday. Blue Bird Antiques is right on The Commons, and there is something you should know about the Commons: It is chock-full of young adventurous souls dirty hippies. Hippies with dreadlocks and huaraches who have not bathed in a long, long time.

And I will tell you right now, if you want to be a dirty hippie that is just FINE with me. To each his own, and blahblahblah. But here is what dirty hippies and unwashed dogs have in common: They don't really smell until you get 'em wet. You know how, if you haven't given your dog a bath for a while, it doesn't really hit home how damn dirty the pooch is until the bathwater hits him and that first wave of smell rises up?

It's the same with hippies. I shit you not. Oh, sure, they look CUTE, and YOUNG, and FULL OF LIFE, but jeezus christ, it starts to rain and Katie bar the door they STINK.

So I'm on the Commons and the clouds roll in and it starts to thunder and the rain droplets start hitting the ground and I skeedaddled out of there, because I don't need to smell no stinkin' hippies.

Don't worry, Ithaca! I'll be back on another day. A non-rainy day. No offense.