The Selling of the Yard

by Tonia

I’m getting ready to move out of state so I needed to get rid of some crap and shit. And, since its Yard Sale season (when entire neighborhoods have the opportunity to judge you for your belongings), I decided to join the ranks of the Yard Sale entrepreneurs. Not that I’m any kind of sales person, mind you. Hell, I couldn’t sell a bra to cross dresser. Or sunscreen to a nudist. But I needed the cash…..

STEP 1 was the terrorizing task of actually going through all my crap and shit. Instead of DUCK, DUCK, GOOSE, it was separate piles of CHUCK, CHUCK, SELL – through every drawer and every closet. I even ventured into the attic….which requires a ladder….which got knocked over when I threw down some crap and shit. And, even though I was physically above it all, the expletives coming out of my mouth were definitely beneath even me. Motherf^*ker! So I sat and sat up there until my sister happened by. She laughed hysterically and threatened to leave me up there ….. until she saw the stuck-in-the-attic-crazy-eyed look on my face.

STEP 2 was pricing everything. Ugh. What dilemmas! I couldn’t decide whether to price things according to my emotional attachment to them or to get them the hell out of my sight. I mean, how do I price Japanese toothpicks decorated as Geisha?

STEP 3 (well, not really STEP 3 but it really happened) was my girlfriend coming over the night before the sale with food to cook on the grill. Since we might or might not have had too much to drink, we ended up with some of her singed bangs on the meat. Later, when she went into the bathroom and found a pair of scissors, I heard her yell to me, “I guess it’s not a great idea to cut my bangs when I’ve been drinking!” Step away from the scissors, my friend. Just slowly back away……  And THAT was a Bangs Rescue.

STEP 4 (or 3 or whatever) was getting up at 5:00 a.m. for an 8:00 a.m. Yard Sale - and that awkward first meeting of the neighbors when your best friend shoos them away for being too early. Anna and her boyfriend ducked out of that scene to hang signs, but they either took a Tour of Tulsa or went to breakfast. She’s not telling. We didn’t see them for hours.

As we set stuff out, I considered throwing a sex toy in the mix just to see people’s reactions, but decided that the 2 blow-up men and kinky board games were probably enough.

STEP ?? was the actual sale. Lots of interesting people came by, including my 90 year old neighbor who bought shelves and talked a total stranger (another Yard Sale shopper) into carrying it to her house for her. (I took notes on THAT pick-up!) She also told us that the best thing about being 90 was that no one asked her for a ride or babysitting any more.

As the day worn on, Anna got into the Spirit of Selling (otherwise known Poverty’s Desperation). She started selling homemade cupcakes and a Dollar Store12-pack of water for $1 each. She proposed that I advertise $20 lap dances, but one really can’t do a decent lap dance with a Yard Sale money apron on. 

What I REALLY wanted to sell were the bags under my eyes, the hairs on my chin, and the flaps under my arms, but I may have to PAY to get rid of those!

For your next girlfriends’ get together, try a Lavender & Ginger Vodka Spritzer: 
Put lots of ice in a highball glass. Add:

3 oz. vodka
5 oz. soda water
1 drop of lavender oil or 2 sprigs of fresh lavender
1 slice of fresh ginger

Stir and drink!

Buh Bye, SkyMall

By Tonia

"If black boxes survive air crashes, why don't they make the whole plane out of that stuff?" — George Carlin

I recently flew (yes, in an airplane). As I searched the seat back pocket in front of me for an airline magazine and a SkyMall catalogue, I discovered NO SkyMall catalogue. WTF! Am I the last one to know that SKyMall filed bankruptcy a few weeks ago? Geez.

Besides death and taxes, SkyMall has always been something I could be sure of. Who is going to babysit me now in the airplane if I don’t have SkyMall? What am I supposed to do with all my time if I can’t search for that one God-I-Must-Have-It item among all the kitschy, expensive, unnecessary crap? I mean, my son-in-law seemed delighted with his Armadillo Beer Can Holder that shits peanuts. And the boyfriend assures me that he frequently wears his Pillow Tie to work. And, since Oklahoma allows concealed weapons, the GirlyGoGarter was a perfect gift for my grandmother.

I just feel sick about the bankruptcy. Sure, call me a Shopocondriac but my pain is real. Instead of SkyMall shopping, all I could do on my recent flight was exercise my brain with crossword puzzles and Sudoku – and I’m about as thrilled exercising my brain as I am exercising my body – not to mention that it lowered my self-esteem. Instead of feeling the exhilaration of the shopping FIND, I felt like a word-deficient, number-failing blockhead. At least with SkyMall I felt competent looking at pictures and turning pages.

But I guess SkyMall’s time has passed - like wringer washers, ice boxes, and VCRs. (Well, I actually still use a VCR.) There’s supposed to be an auction in late March. I need to find out where it is so I can get a deal on that Bigfoot Garden Yeti. And, for all you SkyMall haters, at least they never sold flatulence filters, monkey thongs and spray can skin touch up paint for morticians found on Ebay! (Although that mortician touch up spray paint could have saved me a ton of money in what I paid for plastic surgery!)

For your next girlfriends’ get together, don’t wait until the holidays to have a White Elephant gift exchange! Have everyone bring a wrapped kitschy White Elephant gift to swap; serve tacky foods like bacon flavored candy, chia pudding, kale cupcakes, crazy stinky cheese, or turducken; brainstorm a list of the most worthless advice you’ve ever been given. And drink. And say your Good-byes to SkyMall. RIP, SkyMall. RIP.