Friday, May 16, 2008

On the cutting edge over here

It's called live-blogging. Journalists do it during elections and the Academy Awards, providing minute-by-minute updates on major newsworthy world events as they happen.

Me? I'm live-blogging my garage sale.

So be sure to check back here throughout the day for vital, up-to-the-minute news about crap like this.
It is 8:25 a.m. and I've already made $13.

While some might consider this a new low career-wise -- sitting in a garage surrounded by old crap waiting for strangers to give you quarters -- I am thrilled.

Thirteen bucks? That's more than I've earned in the past month. And it's not even 9 a.m.
Gromit freaked out a little this morning when I fairly leaped outta bed at 6:30, disrupting his schedule.

"YOU are not supposed to get OUT OF BED until 9 a.m. and then YOU are supposed to give ME belly RUBS for a half hour followed by WALKIES. What the HELL?"
"I have 12 Cocoon bags," I tell Jim last night.

Cocoon is a cute little shop up in Geneva where chicks go to buy amazingly wonderful, must-have items that have no practical purpose whatsoever. Every time you spend $25 there, they give you a cool little fabric shopping bag.

We have 12 bags.

"What the hell did you buy there?" he asks.

"Um. All the stuff we're selling in the garage sale?"
9:03 a.m.

An Hispanic couple stops by and buys a pile o' stuff. Pots. Perfume. Glassware. Toys.

"$9.25?" I say.

She laughs.

I think my crap is under-priced.
"That's a five-table diamond," says one lookee-loo.

"Excuse me?" I say.

"A diamond you can see from five tables away. I'm still waiting for mine."

Of course the stone in the pendant marked $1 isn't really a diamond, but an obnoxious bit of bling bought in a moment of extreme weakness at one of those home jewelry parties.
Here's the best thing about having a garage sale (Jim loves this): After the sale, when I'm out shopping and thinking about buying some silly little tschotke, I close my eyes and picture it sitting on a table in my garage with a $1 tag on it.

Sadly, the Garage Sale Effect only lasts about six months.
10:56 a.m. $112.30.

Like a small miracle, my good friend Judy arrives so I can take a pee break. What's the miracle in that, Hedy?

She brought me biscuits and gravy from the local breakfast diner.

Unexpected biscuits and gravy always qualify as a small miracle. Amen.
12:53. Not counting the cash any more.

Nobody's buying my books and I feel vaguely insulted by this. Of course 85% of my customers don't speak English so perhaps I need to let that go.

My neighbor Tina brought over a bunch of her Barbi dolls, packed up in a basket and priced at 75 cents each. As a 10-year-old, she graduated from them 'a long time ago.'

"They were just sitting naked in my house and I felt sorry for them," she said.

I, however, do not feel sorry for them.

She also brought over Barbi's condo, her car and all of her furniture.

When I was a kid, Barbi got a couch made out of a washcloth. And for end tables? Remember those little plastic thingies that keep the pizza box lid from sinking down into the pizza?


Now she's got a bike and a jet ski. Bitch.
We're winding down now. Still haven't sold the golf clubs I never used.

After inspecting everything to make sure we weren't selling any of this stuff, Gromit has decided that every single person is here just to see him.

All the stuff I liked (a small Christmas topiary, myriad candle holders) and thought would sell right away is still here. I'm taking it as a sign from the Garage Sale gods that it is Not Yet Time for them to go. Maybe tomorrow is the day.

Also, I am learning Spanish. Para una, I believe, means each.

Oh, and that damn squirrel is still here.
I am listening to: Birds, quiet conversations over crap
I am reading: The Beacon News
And I am: Profitable


DewMama said...

Do you remember when my mom would drop us off at Grandma Green's house, so that we could run her garage sale?? We had a radio and TV in the back of the garage to help pass the time, and Jamie and Dale would visit.

Remember: I'm Alright
Don't nobody worry 'bout me.....

the dilf said...

Could you draw a picture of a golf club...and put...Titleist D2 Left Handed Driver...9.5 degree..of course "stiff shaft".....hits the ball 20 yds shorter than any other driver...please show bid!



that squirrel looks like he's humping a pumpkin.

good selling.
Hope no one dumps a kid at your place while they go out to seek change of $100bill. :)

Dave said...

First, you need some whiz bang stuff to draw 'em in.

You've got a color printer right? Print some Cuddly Wuddly Jesus pictures and mark them at a buck a piece, three for two bucks. Place them strategically next to the candle holders and talk vaguely about indulgences and purgatory as your spanish speaking customers view the display. Or something like that.

While you're doing Dilf's picture, whip up one of Ping ISI-K 5, 4 and 3 irons. Ad copy as follows:

Guaranteed to go no further than than a six or seven iron and at the same time fade quite nicely (some would describe the tragetory achieved as a banana slice, but that would be cruel).