It's about damn time that someone at the local food repository yet again pissed me off enough for me to spew their ignorance to the world.
While waiting in line to pay for my tasty Asian food, a woman that appeared to be part human and part weevil spouted out this little gem:
"I wanted to go out tonight, so I needed to stop by Arizona Trading Company. And I tried to give them my clothes, but they wouldn't take them! They told me they didn't want them and they told me to leave. Assholes!"
For the sake of argument I'm going to go ahead and break down her tumorous-brain-growth of a statement piece by piece.
While it's true that unless you have ginormous chest-zepplins you will most likely be carded at any fine drinking establishment you grace with your presence, it's a little known fact that they also ask you if you had been to ATC previously that day.
You're required by law to attain little ATC visitation stickers everyday as proof.
21: Check
Arizona Trading Company: Check
She was also apparently under the assumption that ATC has to take any number of funky, stretched out, hole-riddled, cum-stained articles of clothing that you may have.
I'm sorry.
Due to your stinky, weevil-esque nature they probably realized that they'd spend more money chemically cleaning and treating your Pi Phi Kegger 2005 t-shirt to make them fit for human wearage, then they would selling it someone else.
Selling your clothes to pay for booze, when you could just get an actual job or flash your boobs more?
Population you.