When last we met, I was talking about the cherished mantel village I purchased from The Vermont Country Store. In the same post, I kinda, sorta, maybe described The Vermont Country Store as "quaintly loony" and "somewhat geriatric."
Well, let me tell you this: The Vermont Country Store is not so geriatric that they don't know about referral stats. Judging from my stat counter, some good people in Burlington, Vermont with an ISP address at a little place called (gasp!) The Vermont Country Store have been coming over here and reading Tuesday's post.
So, without further ado (cue the music, tap-dancing), let me present a brief list of Things I Really Love About The Vermont Country Store:
1. They are family owned and operated. Always commendable.
2. They are self-proclaimed "Purveyors of the Practical and Hard-To-Find" which, in a world full of dopey, "synergistastic" slogans, is refreshingly straight-forward and charmingly put.
3. They have some really great seasonal items, like my beloved village and blown glass ornaments and bubble lights, plus lots of wonderful reproduction toys and games that are hard to find elsewhere. (See? Truth in advertising!)
4. Tell me: where else are you going to purchase your Bread in a Can (Ready-To-Eat Goodness at a Moment's Notice!)...
...or find the world's most comprehensive selection of very warm, staggeringly un-sexy nightwear (It's Flannel Birth Control!)...
...or order your World Famous Florida Water (Is It an Aftershave or a Refreshing Beverage? Both? I Don't Know!)...
....or peruse antiquated hair appliances for those times when you think, "Sure, it's modern and everything, but my hair dryer is just too SMALL AND COMPACT..."
....or find the perfect solution for those embarrassing moments when your dickie won't stop riding up? (Bonus! Crop-Top Dickie Doubles as a Regular Top When Attending Any State Fair!).
And, speaking of embarrassing moments, I want to say something to any and all employees/owners of the Vermont Country Store who might be reading this: I suffered from shingles last year, just like 57% (rough estimate) of your customers. I'll say it again: I had shingles. So did my 27-year-old brother. We will no longer live in the shadows.
In fact, I was taking these pictures when my brother happened to call, and I read to him the product description for Shingles Rescue. You see, my poor brother (whose name, in an insane bit of coincidence, is Croptop Dickie) has been suffering from painful, residual nerve damage...wait for it...on his face. Ouch.
"They say it's clinically proven to cure your symptoms," I told him.
"Really? Nooo. Do you think it works?" asked Dickie.
"It should. It's $35 for an ounce and a half."
"Well, that's what I want for Christmas, then. Seriously," said Dickie.
"You want shingles cream for Christmas?"
"Yes. I would punch a nun to get rid of this pain."
So, there you have it, folks. Shingles Rescue Cream: The Only Gift That Special Twenty-Something in Your Life Would Punch a Nun For!
And also: Who's Calling Whom Geriatric Now, Right?