Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Crap for sale

We live in a newer development in Northeast Ohio, and for the past 6 or 7 years, our neighborhood has done this gimundous neighborhood garage sale. There are 250 houses in our 'hood, and my guess is that about 25% of the houses participate. It is seriously like a friggin' carnival with balloons, hot dogs, beers, clowns (yes, one year there WERE clowns)... the works.

We. Know. How. To. Do. It. Up. In. Suburbia.

It is really just one big exchange of each another's crap. I buy your crap one year, and the next I sell it. Often times, at a profit. Like I was really even going to use that treadmill. Or elliptical. Or the other treadmill.

For my kids, it is like Christmas all over again. They run from house to house and buy other people's crap for a nickle! Most of the time, they pay nothing --- "just take it!" is what you hear much of the time for the kids in the 'hood.

The same consumers come to our houses every year, without fail. I recognize most, and some of the time it is actually pleasant to catch up with them to see how the year has treated them. The same woman comes every year to buy my clothes.

This morning, I spent my time putting our goods out in the garage, while Rico protected me from any looters.

We then role-played how the garage sale would go. Sounds a little something like this...

"Please don't let your children back behind the tables."

"No, your children cannot ride on my son's four-wheeler."

"M'am... it says 5 cents... I will not sell it for less than 5 cents."

"Yes, it works. If it didn't work, I would have thrown it away."

"Um, size Women's small... just like the sign says..."

"He's a cockapoo."

"Three years old."

"Nope. No shedding."

"Please leave my hangers."

"I do not have anymore shopping bags for you. This is not a REAL store."

"No, the lawn mower is not for sale."

"Please do not touch anything that is hidden under the sheet."

"He will bite your kids if they keep grabbing him like that."

"Sorry, my children's bikes are not for sale."

"Please tell your children not to touch anything that is on the table."

"No, no baseball cards."

"Nope. No tools."

I could go on and on... but I need to save myself for the next couple of days.

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What is the coolest piece of crap you ever scored at a garage sale?

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Um, WHY oh WHY am I still sitting at #13? I do not know, do you? Click. Brown bar. That is all you need to do.

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