Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Truth IS Stranger Than Fiction

What I left out about the garage sale this weekend was the assortment of characters we encountered. I love characters; in novels, on TV and especially in person. The fun didn’t start until we were about an hour into it.

A nice old hippy guy rode up on his bicycle and perused my stash. He asked about the Rolling Stone magazines, the books and records, then was inspired to speak about the Republicans. Now, I am very left leaning, but I try to not discuss politics with strangers since I can never be sure just how strange they get and it is never nice to be the victim of friendly fire. This man went on about how the GOP should just come out and say they hate N-word and (this is where I froze and Paul looked at me for the reaction) that they should just admit to being racists. I calmed a bit. His rant continued as he spelled out his solution for the wars we are in “re-instate the draft and bring it home like they did Vietnam.” Then a rant about reality TV and the reason he rides a bike is because he refuses to pay for gas. And on it went as I moved away and helped other customers. He didn’t buy anything.

On the opposite end of the political spectrum were the recent transplants from Alaska. These folks spouted off immediately that the only reason people don’t like Sarah Palin is because she is a woman (I could give about a dozen of just my own reasons) and that no one will admit they voted for Obama now. I kept my mouth shut. They kept it up and I concluded that the older couple that was also inspecting my past were in agreement since they kept shaking their heads up and down. The Alaska people bought what they wanted (and spent the most) and were on their way, when the retirees shared that they were Obama supports and that they had a bunch of reasons to dislike the former governor.

During the day we had a couple of hard-living ladies stumble up, one shared that she had a broken hip and her eyes revealed that she was wasted, probably on pain meds. I had a feeling she could handle pain since she was tatted up something fierce on ever part of her revealed body. I didn’t want to stare, but I couldn’t make out many of the tats, though they did beg to be stared at as they crept up from the top of her low-cut shirt. While her friend meandered through my leftover things, she explained that they were going to a concert that evening. I, being the practical and sometimes dull person I am, asked if she would be OK at a concert since she was in so much pain. She laid my concerns to rest by shaking her ass and turning for a wink. I couldn’t help but laugh with her, even if they didn’t buy anything.

There was also a lady who wanted something for nothing, and I refused her. A guy who wanted only knives and guns (sorry, clean out), the VET who was so stoned he could barely walk and only wanted a coke and a flirt. Then came my rude neighbor. He comes over whenever I have a sale and it is his time to be as pretentious as possible. It is annoying, but also entertaining since I no longer have to speak to him often. D is the kind of guy who is the gay version of a kept woman. His ex-boyfriend pays for his house, pays his bills and probably sets up other guys to pay some of the costs as well. D has never worked as long as he’s lived there (which is about 5 years) and yet bitches about not having money. He refuses to get a job since to work is beneath him (his words, not mine). I have a feeling he doesn’t work because no one likes him enough to hire him.

On this occasion, D came by and checked out my record collection asking, “Is there anything good in there?” “It’s all good.” I snarkily answered. He went on in his pretentious tone that vinyl is a flawed format and that he only plays records for his friends (men he picks up on the internet) for their novelty value (I take that to be the men and the records.) Later, when we were cleaning up he came by and asked if I still had any Beatle records and I told him I sold the whole lot. It was a lie, but I just couldn’t be in his presence for another moment. He is the epitome of asshole.

So whether they bought something or not, I definitely scored big when it came to the crowd that visited my driveway. I will miss them, but I can live with that.

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