There was a reason that all that stuff was on sale for that little. It sucked. Everything from bumblebee bobby pins to broken candles to dirty fake-hair scrunchies to old pictures of Joey Fatone. I managed to find two more items that were bearable and told HM to look too so that she could get that last thing that we needed to get up to the limit. We searched and searched, through hairsticks and floating frog pencil toppers, finally finding some barettes that she found bearable. I was thinking about what a good deal I was getting and looked at the sign again. TEN for five dollars. We only had five. It took us a half-hour to find the five. There was no way we were going to find five more. We even asked the wannabe Britney lookalike at the counter if we could get the deal with only five and she said no. Basically, Claires wanted that shit out of there and unless we would take ten, we couldn’t take any. So we tossed the stuff back on the pile for some other unsuspecting customer.
At least I got a four-dollar camo purse out of it.