Archive for the ‘Buy My Junk!’ Category

Fuck You Friday

June 27, 2008

The fucking sale of my fucking house has fucking fallen through. Apparently, the fucking buyers are going through some fucking personal problems and won’t be able to hold up their end of the fucking deal.

Fuck it Dude, let’s go bowling.


Who Will Buy My Memories?

May 31, 2008

0540–Unbelievable. As the Mrs. is getting set up in the driveway, this goober pulls up and starts looking at our wares. Even more unbelievable, he buys the crappiest pet cage we have in all of it’s rusted glory. It was the one thing we didn’t think any one in their right mind would buy. He’s going to keep chickens in it.

0640–These people are like garage sale zombies. Mindlessly shambling from one yard to the next looking for treasure in a manure pile. You know, if zombies did that as well as the whole brain eating thing. On the plus side, they give us money for this junk.

0740–The Brown Invasion. If the Mexicans want to endure a treacherous border crossing and the very real possibility of being sent back to whatever backwater shithole they came out of in order to buy up my used linens. Then I say open the borders. Mr. Bush, tear down this wall.

0810–Out of coffee. Still drinking booze, though.

0857–Out of booze. Drinking sand. Half of the stuff is gone. It won’t be missed. Only the good junk is left. No accounting for taste. Thankfully, the couple from the trailer park up the road were looking to redecorate. And kudos to the hipster with a taste for Americana that snapped up $25 worth of CD’s. Still, no one has made an offer on the Kinky Friedman documentary, Asshole from El Paso.

1003–The Doldrums have set in. The freak parade is starting to wind down. All the garage sale nuts have been at it for a couple of hours. Now we deal with the stragglers. Within the next hour will come the hagglers who want to Christian you down over a $1 chafing dish or some shit.

The Aftermath–Not a bad take.  As I type this a Guatemalan is backing up his truck to load the pool/foosball/air hockey table.  We unloaded just about everything except all of my CD’s/DVD’s and books.  Sorry I didn’t have any gospel, granny.  Try this Jason and the Scorchers Live disc,  it rocks.

The important part is that the garage is now empty enough to be usable.  We’ll try this again in the fall.  I have even more crap in storage.

Vultures at Dawn

May 30, 2008

Tomorrow is the big Garage Sale. We are unloading a sizable amount of crap valuable household items. Included in the sale will be parts of the massive Sarcastro compact disc collection. Most of which has either been loaded to iTunes or was not a very rewarding purchase in the first place. Come and get me recording industry goons! I’m reselling your precious intellectual property that in many instances I paid full retail price for the pleasure. Nevermind your faulty premise that you are somehow still owed money once you have already been paid for the product you have brought to market. If the auto industry used the same idiotic business model, Toyota would expect payment for someone borrowing my car. So bring on your hired guns and rat-faced shysters. Your threats are meaningless. I have enough bullets and food to start my own FLDS compound! Well, I will once I sell all these goddamn CDs, DVDs and pointless VHS tapes.

So, I’m trying to get stuff quasi-sorted and arranged this morning so that tomorrow is just a matter of pulling it out into the driveway and watching the money roll in. That was my first mistake.

The first “buyer” screeched to a tire burning halt in front of the house and asked if the thing we trap Sarcastro Junior in when we can no longer tolerate his vandalism and just want to hear him keen like a banshee was for sale.

I had no idea.

She asked about price.

I had no idea.

Nevermind that I had told her that we weren’t going to have anything ready for sale until Saturday. She was undeterred by my lack of interest in being thrust into the merchant class.

I was forced to call higher headquarters.

Mrs. Sarcastro informed me that the jumper thingy wasn’t for sale and it would be the repository for Junior during the garage sale. I then relayed this info to the buyer.

But, the Mrs. vacillated and said, “Well, if she wants to pay $15 for it, sell it.” As soon as I looked up to give this woman a renewed chance at it, there went her car in a screech of tires and a cloud of dust up to the next yard sale.

No sooner did I turn back to sorting through junk sentimental family heirlooms, than another minivan pulled up. Out staggered a woman who had not heard that tube tops with horizontal stripes had gone out of style for forty plus year old obese women. Her makeup looked as if it were put on with a wooden spoon. She smelled like a half empty bottle of beer that has been used as an ashtray half way through a college party. Not to be too cruel, but she looked like a clown smuggling inner-tubes.

Again I tried in vain to explain that we were not, in fact, having a garage sale for another 24 hours. She acted as if I was speaking Chinese and proceeded to stagger into the garage while telling me her life story. Sadly, she was not speaking Chinese. It would have been easier to conceal my disinterest. After some inquiries about some useless shit in a pile of even more useless shit treasured possessions we are reluctant to part with, she stumbled down the driveway seven dollars poorer.

As she did so, three carloads of hatchet-faced broads came cruising up. All demanding to know prices of items that may or may not be for sale. Again, I explained that the yard sale was not until the following day. They looked at me if I were wearing a conical hat and building a Great Wall.

One particularly dessicated nag looked through my CDs and inquired, “Do ya have any Meatloaf?”

At that point the youngest one chimed in, “What’s Meatloaf?”

“It’s a group” came the stupefying reply.

At that point, I turned on the hose and chased them out of my yard. I quickly closed the garage door, went in the house, closed the blinds and made plans to be heavily medicated during the actual garage sale.

Y’all be sure to come on by!

Dying to Sell

December 15, 2006

Can you help a poor veteran who is down on his luck?


The sweet Whirlpool Duet Washer and Dryer set (with pedestals) has been reduced to $1000 as part of our Christmas Clearance sale! That’s a hard deal to beat!

I had hoped to pass these heirloom quality appliances on to my grandchildren. Now for half the cost of retail, you can own durable goods that will keep your family’s clothes clean for generations.


The house is still for rent. Freshly painted, I might add. Ok, freshly painted in the kitchen, hall and living room. Still, it is a great house and a bargain at $850 per month.

It has a large fenced in backyard and pets are welcome with a pet deposit.

Three (2 1/2) bedrooms and one bathroom. Large kitchen. Convenient to the interstate.

In exchange for mowing the yard, I can come off the rent some.

Here’s the deal folks, Donald Rumsfeld swore that he would find a way to fuck me over if it took starting a war in Iraq to do it. Unless I come up with some dough pretty quick, Rummy and his goons are gonna ship me off to die. I wound up putting a round of golf, lunch at the clubhouse and a truckload of adult beverages on his tab a few years back and he’s never gotten over it. Some people can’t take a joke. Unless I pay him back, I’ll be forced to go to Iraq. He has to receive the money by the time he leaves office next week, or I’m doomed. Once he isn’t SecDef anymore, the order can’t be rescinded.


 O Muse!
Sing in me, and through me tell the story
Of that man skilled in all the ways of contending,
A wanderer, harried for years on end…

The Big One

December 1, 2006

Band of Brothers framed lobby poster. Measures 71.5″x49.5″ It is huge, but looks great.


Important camera tip: Hold the camera level, instead of like a rapper holding a pistol.

Nice reflection of the light fixture in the half bedroom.

I hate getting rid of it, but we have no room and the wife says it doesn’t go with any of her stuff.





A True Collector’s Item

December 1, 2006

Many a famous blogger has crashed on this couch. In fact, a veritable Fellini-like parade of characters has at one time or another wound up waking up there. Everyone from pin-up models to Exador and Aunt B have found themselves bleary eyed and confused when the unforgiving light of a new day awoke them from their comatose state on that couch. It is that comfy!



Obviously, you are not a golfer

December 1, 2006

Have any of you ever gotten really drunk and cruised eBay and when you sobered up, you realized that you now are the proud owner of a lot of useless bric-a-brac?

Shut the fuck up, Donny.


Let’s Talk Dirty In Hawaiian

December 1, 2006


I packed my bags and bought myself a ticket
For the land of the tall palm tree
Aloha old milwaukee, hello waikiki
I just stepped down from the airplane
When I thought I heard her say
Waka waka nuka nuka, waka waka nuka nuka
Would you like a lei? eh?


Lets talk dirty in hawaiian
Whisper in my ear
Kicka pooka maka
wah wahini

Are the words I long to hear
Lay your coca nuta on ma tiki
What the hecka mooka mooka dear
Lets talk dirty in hawaiian

Say the words I long to hear

$10 each

Burn, Baby Burn!

December 1, 2006

Chiminea. Or however the hell you spell it. Perfect for those cold evenings when you want to sit outside by a fire without burning your porch down.




Squeal Like A Pig

December 1, 2006


Keowee Aquaterra kayak. Great play boat for those beautiful trips down any of the local rivers with the exception of the shitty Harpeth. Let those losers from the Krystal ad have that barely moving ribbon of raw sewage.

I’ll throw in the paddle and my Burt Reynolds-style life jacket. $125

Actual life jacket (personal flotation device) resembles this photo about as much as I do. Or as much as Burt currently resembles the photo.