September 23, 2004
Turn Unwanted Crap Into Action Figures!
Ah, garage sales - obviously much more beneficial to the seller than the shopper. "Wait, wait - you're not only going to get this horrid crap outta my sight, but you're going to pay me for it?!" Of course, there is a catch: you must first locate and assemble said horrid crap.
I found, while spelunking in my basement, three computer keyboards, twenty pieces of luggage (we are two people), four complete sets of dishes (WTF?!). I'm, like, sexually aroused by the amount of S P A C E we now have in the basement.
Garage sales can be a test of one's social mores. For example, I must often ask myself, "How long do I have to keep a gift before getting rid of it?" Is the number of necessary years directly related to how much you like the person, or how often the person visits your house? Someone should come up with a mathematical equation to figure that out.
I made $115 off my unwanted junk. Take that, terrorists! Prior to the garage sale, that money was ear-marked for a Hard Rock Café Barbie. Is she not perfection? But since there are wretched scum out there who bought them all up the day they came out, with the sole purpose of selling them for huge profit - right along with their souls - they're only available on eBay and currently going for over $200. Now, I may be a weirdo, but I'm a thrifty weirdo, and 200 clams is insane for a fucking plastic doll.
(Yes, I was willing to pay $115, $125 even. How is that not insane for a plastic doll, you ask? Just shut up.)
Instead, I wandered over to Time and Space Toys, and what to my wondering eyes should appear but 12" "action figures," which is just a way of saying "Barbie dolls" so that straight boys will buy them, too.
Now, I love darling little Buffy, but she can't hold a candle to Barbie. Faith the Rogue Slayer, on the other hand, would take that candle, drip hot wax on Barbie's back and put the flame out on her forearm. So she's coming home with me.
Uh.
I so freaked myself out with that candle analogy that I can't find anything clever to say about Angel the Vampire with a Soul, except that my chiropractor looks just like him. Naturally, I'm throwing myself down the stairs tomorrow. Again.
Now I'm thinking about how I'm going to pose Faith and Angel. I don't think a chiropractor can help me.
Follow up: Husband got the stint out of his arm yesterday. He is now fully human... and fully functional. Let the revelries commence.