So, okay, the garage sale didn't so much suck - as I twiddled my fingers a la Mr. Burns and counted my Benjamins, er, Lincolns (dolla dolla bill, y'all), but the getting ready for the damned thing? Please find the following list of situations I'd rather find myself in rather than doing that again. Ever.
- Have bamboo skewers inserted under my fingernails.
- Be hung by my toenails (a threat commonly uttered by my Grandpa, and terrified me as a child. I now know better, but still, that would definitely suck.)
- Poke myself in the eye with a fork.
- Get tased, Bro!
- Be forced to watch a marathon of Calliou episodes. (Or Super Why. Make it stop. Please.)
- Learn that coffee is a figment of my imagination.
- Have my ex-husband move in next door.
Have I made my point yet? Getting ready for this garage sale was like being served the world's largest shit sandwich and being forced to eat every bite before dessert. First of all, there were literally hundreds of pieces of itty bitty kid clothes and toys to arrange artfully (evidently just throwing shit in a bunch of boxes and letting people go through them isn't okay. Who knew.) and it was eleventybillion degrees with infinity plus one percent humidity. That, and every mosquito in the tri-county area was trying to get in my pants. (No lie. I have a ridiculous amount of skeeter bites on unexposed skin. Little fucking perverts.) I'm not sure exactly how they stuck onto my leg to even bite me, as I was unsure if I was sweating or someone sprayed me down with the garden hose. Oh, wait. I smelled like pickled skunk ass, so it definitely wasn't the hose.
Anyway, we decided to put things out the night before, since it wasn't supposed to rain, but as much dew that covered all of my stuff, it might as well have. Whatever. I wasn't going to do shit at 4 am but sleep, hopefully, so I wanted to get as much done the night prior as possible. It. Was. Miserable. And then I forgot to set my alarm clock. And then my mom left the money bag outside while we took a short nap. (None is missing, thank you citizens of my tiny town for being so fucking rad!) And I still have a shit ton of nauseatingly cute onesies and crap left, so there very well may be a part deux... especially since I made enough for a car payment and a half today. Can I get a wut wut? (Oh, it's not cool to do that anymore? Are you also insinuating I should stop doing the sprinkler and cabbage patch when I dance? Damn it. No, I don't know how to Dougie, in case you were wondering.)
And because no day is complete without something to say WTF about, I might have broken my finger. At a garage sale. Who manages to do that? Me. I swear, I'm the Napoleon Dynamite of Indiana Street.
Anyway, we decided to put things out the night before, since it wasn't supposed to rain, but as much dew that covered all of my stuff, it might as well have. Whatever. I wasn't going to do shit at 4 am but sleep, hopefully, so I wanted to get as much done the night prior as possible. It. Was. Miserable. And then I forgot to set my alarm clock. And then my mom left the money bag outside while we took a short nap. (None is missing, thank you citizens of my tiny town for being so fucking rad!) And I still have a shit ton of nauseatingly cute onesies and crap left, so there very well may be a part deux... especially since I made enough for a car payment and a half today. Can I get a wut wut? (Oh, it's not cool to do that anymore? Are you also insinuating I should stop doing the sprinkler and cabbage patch when I dance? Damn it. No, I don't know how to Dougie, in case you were wondering.)
And because no day is complete without something to say WTF about, I might have broken my finger. At a garage sale. Who manages to do that? Me. I swear, I'm the Napoleon Dynamite of Indiana Street.
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