I have never went to an Op Shop and bought clothing or shoes. But drinking is an expensive habit, mortgages are rising here, and I am too generous to the cancer kid mint tin at work. I needed new shoes. So my wife demands I try the op shop first. She has hair color to change, nails to erect, and a new vagina to rebuild. I thought all the shoes would be so old Julius Caesar was assassinated in them, or the throw away stuff of serial killers, with eyeballs in the toe. But no, the selection and style was great. I found an Italian pair called Gravati, that looked so new I swear they most have only been worn for one Mafia funeral. How much? Ten dollars. Go fuck yourself Florsheim. Now all I have to do is spray them with some sort of Hiroshima destroying disinfectant, (I was warned by the sales person not to put them in the microwave) and I am in like Flynn. Less sole, more beer.