the plan of attack was a balanced concoction of garage sale-shopping with my mom and sister, and drunken golfing with my friends-- an odd mix of events, like a pizza on a bagel, but my favorite style nonetheless. pleasant chaos.
i did, of course, make two fairly small-- but very relevant-- mistakes that friday.
2. those two packs of honey-roasted peanuts were all i ate outside of five baby carrots.
saturday morning, i woke up to my alarm and a pile of cold vomit on the hardwood floor. whiskey on an empty stomach is something not even i can handle. but, i'll tip my hat to my intoxicated-self: he managed to set an alarm for 9am and sobered up enough to wake up to it as well!
the night before, we went to golfland, though i don't think most people actually golfed. a homeless man told us that the word "golf" was originally an acronym for "gentlemen only. women forbidden." and we all swilled our drinks. the snack-shack cashier was very bothered by my honesty when i told him "don't fill the soda all the way, i'm just using it to hide my liquor and i don't want you to waste soda on me." but he was kind enough to ask if i'd just prefer ice (for free) instead.
i captured a praying mantis with my hands for the first time ever and learned they don't enjoy that very much, so i sort of threw it and we both proceeded to get into a very kung-fu-esque defense position before leaving for a nearby dive bar. i mean, the mantis didn't go to the bar (to my knowledge.) but you get the idea.
1:25am, leaving the bar.
1:30am, drunk-dialing.
2am, PLOW, vomit!
so, 9am. and it's already about 90 degrees: the great garage sale.
every year, there is this city-wide garage sale when all the neighbors put their personal lives out on big blue tarps and sit in lawn chairs nonchalantly pricing and selling their "#1 Dad" mugs and unusual collections. it's like finding a suburb made of goodwill stores that also sell lemonade.
but, this year, the great garage sale was not actually so great. my mom blamed the economy and i blamed the sun, but altogether the event seemed contrived. at times, we'd find garage sales so small it was unclear whether or not they were actually garage sales or just a family moving in a new kitchen table.
my mom wanted some patio furniture and children's books for her students, i'm not sure what me or my sister were looking for but sometimes it's just about looking.
no one really had anything too great, though i did buy a mac tonight riding a motorcycle and a novel titled sir farstalot hunts the booger, because... seriously.
but my mom's quest for patio furniture was outside the league of these garage sales.and the sellers were getting antsy as well-- after watching countless visitors mumble an insincere "how are you?" while quietly judging their belongings, only to leave without purchase. my sister bought a puffalump doll from one lady-- that made the two of them both very happy.
but the characters were great! it was so wonderfully voyeuristic i almost felt like i should be paying to experience so many garage sale people in one day. it was like scratchers in that way: it's not so much about winning money as much as it is the anticipation of the possibility while you scratch. you're paying for the experience.
the sea-life lady! oh, how boisterous. everything about her was the water. all of her items were spread out across beach blankets and she had cardboard cut-out waves that could be attached to your wall if you wished to give your bedroom a more... underwater feel. there was a wooden dock post with a stuffed seagull perched proudly atop, and several stuffed sea creature dolls.
we were looking at a fish puppet, when she started pitching to us.
"oh yeah," i said, "a little one right there."
"yep," she said, "and i've got a big one there, too. that big stuffed shark is a puppet! and i've got a shark hat!"
"oh, you do," i said, while suddenly noticing the baseball cap.
it was one of those hats that, when worn, should make others exclaim, "why, it looks as though a shark has swam right through your head! it's coming out of both sides!" and chuckle an particularly annoying chuckle.
"haha well," i smiled, "you've got to keep something, i guess."
"i've got dolphin items, too!"
as we left, we passed several posters of the little mermaid and i peered into the window of her truck. it was there. she wasn't lying.
a fluffy shark doll, with real shark teeth. just hanging out, catching some sun on her dashboard.
we must've hit over thirty different garage sales and after realizing i wasn't actually going to find too much, i spent each visit enjoying the ability to see knick-knacks and their owners. it's one thing to see underwear hanging in chinatown, but it's a whole other game seeing the owner of the underwear, too. it's sometimes very awkward.
there was one guy with an elaborate marble collection for sale not in a jar, but on a foam display tray, guarded by plexi-glass. beside the marbles, there were rows and rows of decorative swords that couldn't reasonably do any actual damage beyond embarrass the owner. he even had a battle-axe with blades shaped like two dragons.
i watched one seller try to explain what an xbox is to a middle-aged asian woman who could not figure out why a rock band drum-set couldn't play music without being plugged in.
and another debating with an indian duo that her portugeuse learning book was written for english-speakers and that it was not an english learning book for portuguese people or else the first page would not say "an introduction" in english. they weren't having it and i enjoyed watching the old lady grow more and more frustrated with them.
at one particular house, everything was outdoorsy: snowboards, skis, wake-boards, surfboards, climbing ropes, tents, and all. it was like walking into lombardi sports. in fact, the only non-outdoorsy item i found was the entire collection of the simpson's seasons on dvd. even though it's not particularly odd for someone to thoroughly enjoy wild-life and extreme sports, but also enjoy the simpson's, i couldn't help but wonder who the seller was. but before i could think for too long, i heard a familiar voice.
"ha," i said, immediately recognizing my former manual laborist co-worker at the old pet shop, "johannes. how is it?"
that was a nice surprise. and, come to think of it, if i were to break johannes down to just two hobbies i would probably have said "the outdoors and the simpson's" well before the garage sale meeting.
after about 2 or 3pm, everyone seemed to be closing up but my mom insisted on going to a few more before grabbing some food. it's times like that when i wonder how my stomach manages to ingest so much whiskey, vomit, then take caffeine and no actual food for six hours without complaints.
at the last garage sale, the crowds were mostly gone. it was just the three of us wishnacks, an indian man, and the owner of the house. i don't think i was even looking for treasure at that point, but some people were.
i looked around. there was my little sister, my mom, and a fifty-something man built like a logger. and none of them were anywhere near me. this man was asking me.
"do you know who does?" he asked.
"no, i don't," i said, "i just got here."
"do you know who i should talk to if i want to buy something?" he continued.
"sir," i said, "i know as much as you do," officially ending the conversation.
the logger jumped in-- though i'm pretty sure he heard and enjoyed the entire thing and could've stopped it at any point.
"oh!" the indian man said, "how much for this umbrella? there's no price-tag."
"it's not for sale. it's for shade."
i can't get that moment out of my head. why would he assume i owned the house? of everyone there, i was at least the second-most unlikely to own a house. i'm a twenty-five year-old long-haired child and i was carrying sir fartsalot hunts the booger, and a mcdonald's happy meal toy from 1988-- if i owned a house in the silicon valley, there would have to be something frightfully wrong with our society.
anyway, we called it quits after proficiently making fun of the man. and while none of us found too much, the experience was well-worth it. some good ol' fashioned family-time, with a little bit of awkward sociology never hurts.
oh, and i did realize that everyone, at every garage sale, was selling a stuffed octopus doll. sort of random.
