The Daily Derenger

7/26/2003

Well it's over. 3 days of garage sales at my mom's and it's all done. I think. She currently is contemplating a fourth day. And why wouldn't a family want to get dressed up in their Sunday best, got to church, then brunch and then make a stop at a garage sale?

I missed day one of the sale, Thursday. I did a lot of work to get things together for the sale but I missed the kickoff of the festivities. Still, I was there in spirit.

It actually wasn't even a garage sale. Rather, it was a yard sale held in the driveway. Whatever you or I want to call it, though, the bottom line is that it was a bunch of shit on display.

Mom placed an in-depth ad in the paper, which ran on all 3 days. It listed types of items for sale including an airplane. Not a model airplane nor an airplane-like object but a real pilot-needed-in-the-cockpit-to-operate-it airplane. Sale price - $12,000. Out the door and into a hangar near you.

My step-dad has been building this thing for over a decade, now complete with an engine and propeller even. It's been sitting in the 2-car or one-semi-built-airplane garage for the last few years virtually untouched. His motivation has died off while the plane has served has a good source of conversation at parties.

Some people inquired about the plane, I think as way of saying, "You're fuckin' serious? You real have an real airplane for sale?" But of all places to sell a plane, at a garage sale? People come to such an event with loose change hoping to find a chipped candy dish for a quarter.

What makes the whole yard/driveway sale more bizarre than others like it is that most of the stuff for sale wasn't owned by anyone we knew. The majority of it came directly from people's garbage sitting on the curb. Some of it even came from dumpsters.

"The thrill of the hunt" is how my mom explains her need to collect junk. What kind of junk other than the airplane? How about a half dozen bowling balls, featuring engraved names and initials of people we didn't know. Sure I know a Kristy or someone who goes by J.J.D.T, but I haven't known them to be an avid bowler or even an active person at all. Mom had bowling bags, shoes and even shirts. If the sale didn't get rid of the stuff, we could turn the basement into an alley and charge admission.

38 wicker baskets of all shapes and sizes had an entire section all to their own. Again, if they didn't sell, I guess a craft shop could open in the front hall.

17 lamps, some with and some without shades, sat directly across the driveway from the wicker. Put them on your desk, your nightstand, or your dashboard. If ever a Genie convention comes through town, we'll be sure to contact them.

Chairs with backs and chairs without backs; chairs with cushions and those without; a wagon with wheels but without a handle; frames without pictures nor even any glass; shirts without buttons; shoes without laces and the list goes on.

Again I remind you, mom is seriously thinking about going another round with the sale. To her credit though, the TV and a few stereos actually worked and worked well. Some sold while others still sit out there. And yes, I do mean that they still sit out there. For as I write this, the entire display of the aforementioned shit is outside. However, I don't think we could get lucky enough to have any of it stolen. I would rather place money on the likelihood that people will drop their shit off overnight and mom will be putting price tags on it come dawn.

Today was most eventful when an older couple, maybe in their mid 50's, asked if the evergreens in the backyard were for sale. Like the trained soldier my step-dad had become, he was summoned from his room to discuss prices. Not sure what the verdict was on the spruces, though.

Many people came through the sale and left with nothing. Mom's convinced they were searching for a specific thing and wouldn't be bothered with anything else. I think they just wanted to see what kind of shit other people actually owned at one point and now want to part with. That's what makes selling other people's shit so weird. The people who stop by the sale have no idea where the stuff came from or why in the hell the "Love Shack" cassette single hadn't sold yet. I wasn't about to get into the reason behind that or the bowling pin-shaped bottle of after-shave. Unless they were going to but the full set, complete with ball, bag, shirt, shoes and eau de toilette. For the seriously sexy bowler only.

That's enough for now. I still can't believe I spent the last 2 days watching people haggle over 75-cent sweaters.

7/22/2003

"We'll meet in the city then. I left my cell phone in San Francisco, so call me on my home phone."

That was written to me in a recent Instant Message chat.

Man how times have changed. For so long people were leaving their hearts in San Francisco. Now technology has taken over and cell phones are being left there.

What's next?

7/21/2003

SIXTEEN: When you lose, don't lose the lesson.
Especially if the lesson involved spending money on dinner, drinks, dancing and then no fellatio.

SEVENTEEN: Remember the three R's; Respect for self; Respect
for others;and Responsibility for all your actions.
And rectal stimulation, the long-lost fourth R.

EIGHTEEN: Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
Have some sex to clear things up.

NINETEEN: When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
Wash the sheets and tell her you'll never try that again.

TWENTY: Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice.
Caller-ID has prevented picking up many calls, let alone smiling.

TWENTY-ONE: Spend some time alone.
Buy lots of lotion or lube of your choice and lock the door. Have fun!