Sell Out, with Me, Oh Yeah

Hey everybody, it's yard sale time! A time to search high and low for dated electronics, outgrown clothing and assorted household items which have become expendable. This is the second time that we have done a garage sale or yard sale or get rid of your useless shit sale, whatever label you want to slap on it. The first time was in Colorado, before we moved back East. We made a few hundred bucks, but this time we didn't have any big ticket items, so we had to increase our volume to match revenues. Wow, maybe I have learned something about economics in my 12 years as a desk jockey. Suck on that Greenspan.

A day or two before the big event, we gather up our seldom used treasures and start tagging them with prices. And the haggling begins... How much should we charge for this Ayatolla Ass-a-hola shirt? Definitely go at least $10 for the leather assless chaps. Do you think I can get $5 for this pink Menudo sombrero? The autographed picture of Jesus that says "Jewish Carpenters Rule!" should fetch us at least $20. Are you ever going to use this thigh master? Finally, we get the items tagged and stacked in the garage, now it becomes a waiting game.

Saturday morning, 7:00 am, yeah, you heard me, 7:00 am, and it's go time. Mandelbaum! Mandelbaum! I grab a quick shower and dance around to A-Punk by Vampire Weekend, while Amy begins to stir. Off to the bank to get some change. Shit! The bank doesn't open until 9:00, quick detour to the grocery store and the manager is nice enough to hook me up. The old Saturday Night Live skit about making change goes through my head, as I exchange twenty's for smaller denominations. "We'll give you combinations you may not have thought of. For a twenty dollar bill we'll give you two $5's, two $1's, three $2's and twenty dimes. Making change it's what we do"

Back at our flat, Amy and Maggie are having breakfast, which gives me time to start turning our driveway into a white trash Wal-Mart. Baby clothes here, electronics there, beer funnels go in aisle two next to the Millenium Falcon replica made entirely out of Mountain Dew bottles and Skoal cans. Don't forget the neon Pabst Blue Ribbon sign, that needs to go right down in front to draw in the summer teeth crowd. Alright, this joint is coming together, just need to set up the greeter area and get some tunes going. Hmmm, I don't think that "Darling Nikki" is appropriate for an early morning community event, how about we go with some mellow Norah Jones instead.

It's 8:00 am and the curtain goes up. The morning starts slow with a bunch of drive-bys. You know, the looky-loo's who slowly roll past the crib, gawking at our mountain of junk, then they roll away. Hey essay, is my kracker ass kracker shit not good enough for you? I guess they weren't in the market for a rockin' Sony 200 CD changer. C'mon essay, you know iPods are just a fad and that CD's will make a big comeback, and when they do you'll be begging me for this changer. If you buy now I'll throw in 200 CD's free. You get a changer and 200 CD's, that's a $2200 value, for $30.

As the morning progresses, so does the traffic. I am officially the worst haggler ever. The tag says $20, they ask if I'll let it go for $2., I say how about $10, they say $5 and I say sold for 75% less than my original asking price. That's right you get a $30 hose and a $25 hose roller-upper, all for $5. Congratulations on making me feel like a total schmuck. Where's Amy? She is a much tougher nut to crack at the haggling game. This lady had her down to $2 for some baby clothes and she demanded $2.50. The lady gave her $2.35 and left. WTF? Amy got on her bike, like the kid in "Better Off Dead", and tracked her down yelling "I want my fifteeeeen cents!".

An hour before the end of the big sale, we finally hit pay dirt. This lady, who can only be described as an Asian version of my Mom, stops by and loses her shit. For those of you who don't know, my Mom's basement looks like a fully stocked bomb shelter, because she'll buy anything as long as it's on sale. I'm pretty sure she has Heinz ketchup and Betty Crocker au gratin potatoes from 1987 down there mixed in with some Jaromir Jagr peanut butter and a Wheaties box with the 1992 Penguins on it. This Asian version of my Mom calls her daughter, who lives a few blocks away, and together they buy about 50 of Maggies old outfits. Meanwhile, her husband is in the car, and like every guy married to an obsessive shopper, he's banging his head off the stearing wheel and cursing under his breath. They sorted through the clothes for a good 25 minutes, and I was sure that any second the hubby was going to commit Hari-Cari.

Ding! Yard sale's done! Ding! Yard sale's done! Ding! Yard sale's done! Time to count the cash and see how we did. Bam! $160. We started with $80, carry the one, multiply by 3.14, subtract the remainder and we get a grand total of $80 profit. Not bad for four hours work on a beautiful Saturday morning. More importantly I got rid of a ton of shit we never use. Unfortunately, I still have that damn 200 CD changer, and my daughter didn't sell either. I thought that a strawberry-blonde kid with stunning blue eyes would pocket us at least $50, but alas we had no takers. Maybe next year when she's potty trained and the economy rebounds, we'll do better.