Everything Has Its Price

Today my family had its almost annual yard sale. Yard sales at my house are a little backwards, but what isn't a little backwards at my house? At my house, instead of asking, "What do you want to sell?", my dad asks, "What don't you want to sell?" His theory is that everything has its price, the less you want to sell something, the more you make it cost, but that anything you own could be possibly sold...for a high enough price. In other words, pretty much everything we own that he could move out of the house fast enough ended up for sale on our driveway. This is how we inadvertatly sold our couch last year. He asked $1000 for it, and lo and behold, someone offered to pay that. Just to further illustrate this point, he (jokingly, I would like to think) put a $50,000 price tag on our dog, Rose. Yes, my dad tried to sell my dog at a yard sale...just wanted to drive that point home. Another aspect of my dad's mantra is that he puts EVERYBODY'S stuff out for sale, not just his. So if there's anything you don't want to sell, you have to be out there at 5 AM putting it back in the house. I dislike the whole hassle of having to go through my own stuff and salvage what I can but my sister, the opportunist she is, has seen the bright side of the whole thing--especially when my dad occasionally makes a mistake and puts out something really indispensible.

"Hey Katie, don't you hate that Dad put out practically everything we own?"

"It's ok, he accidentally put out my Bible from Confirmation and I've been trying to get him to let me get rid of it for awhile anyway."

After telling my sister that she was NOT allowed to sell her Bible, I do realize that maybe it's not all so bad. This way we end of getting rid of more stuff just because we're too lazy to put it back inside, which is my dad's goal in the first place: to get rid of as much stuff as possible. He glows with personal satisfaction after each sale.

"See, now we have practically nothing to put back in the shed!....Hey, do you think the shed would be too heavy to move out here?"

I must say though, you meet some of the most interesting people at garage sales. Even I was surprised when a clown, dressed in full clown regailia, pulled up in front of our house. Apparently even clowns need common household items found at garage sales. The clown ended up leaving with a fishbowl, for her fish "Sparkles" she informed me, and my sister's razor scooter.

Another one of my favorite people was the lady who wanted to buy all of Katie's old stuffed animals. As she was paying my sister for them she said, "You know my dog will just love these for Christmas. He loves stuffed animals because he can rip right though them. He gets them just the way he likes them, you know, rips the arms and legs off so it's just the carcass (YES, she actually referred to the dismembered body of a stuffed animal as the carcass!). As my sister got whiter and whiter, I did kind of start feeling sorry for her, but these were stuffed animals she had gotten in the past couple of years and how attached does anyone over the age of 13 really get to new stuffed animals?
What really kind of embarassed me was when the gardeners came to mow the lawn during our garage sale. I don't really like having gardeners in the first place. I feel like our house is not so big that we need garderners, only snobby rich people have gardeners. (If you have gardeners, I have nothing against you since, after all, so do we) No, we couldn't just tell them to skip this week (said my parents) and yes, we had to move everything off of the grass to the driveway. The poor gardeners had to work around us, so as people rummaged through our possessions, we were all subjected to the weed wacking happening just inches away. The best part had to be when the gardeners recognized some of the people shopping at our sale as their neighbors and/or family members. Small world, I suppose.

Update: Yard sale day two...
A few years ago we had my grandpa record all of our family videos (me and Katie growing up mostly) from the original VCR tapes to new VCR tapes that were better quality or something. My dad found the originals today and--you guessed it--decided he could sell them as "blank tapes" people can record over since we still have the better quality ones anyway. In pure theory, I guess it makes sense, but isn't it a little weird to think that somewhere out there, someone else owns a tape of me in the bathtub when I was 6 months old? Maybe this is the start of my internet porn career. I'm expecting a royalty check in the mail any day now.

It is nice to know that my dad will give anyone the shirt off of his back. His pants, however, will cost you a dollar. A guy walked up and asked my dad if we were selling any men's pants about his size. My dad said, "I'll sell you the ones I'm wearing, if you want them." NOW do you believe that my dad will sell anything? Not only did my dad sell the pants off of himself, he went up to his closet and sold five other pairs as well.

Laundry Conspiracy Theory

I was just in the grocery store with Kate and she brought to mind an interesting observation. (I feel like Kate and I have become close enough that she will not object to me "stealing" her important observation...especially since credit was just given where it was due) Anyway, we noticed that there is hardly no laundry detergent available in stores today that smells like laundry detergent. They all have some fragrance that must include one of these words: "morning" "fresh" "breeze" or "spring". Most are titled "Morning Fresh Spring Breeze" just to be safe. This in itself is not really a big deal, but this is the part that really gets me: There is perfume that smells like laundry detergent! And it's expensive! Why would you pay a whole bunch of money to smell like laundry when laundry doesn't even smell like laundry anymore?! That's it exactly! Laundry smell has been banished from the shelves of the grocery store and is now available only to the upper-class. It's a conspiracy I tell you. That fresh, clean, one-of-a-kind smell has quite a hefty price tag.

Family Weekend

I just really like this picture of my family.

I have never been away from my family for more than a few weeks at a time, including both Japan trips. So this past weekend, after not being home in two months, I was persuaded by my mom to drive up and keep the peace while she and my dad went to Phoenix. The premise of my trip all stemmed from my aunt's penchant for yard sales. She loves yard sales and since moving to a smaller house recently, had a very good reason to have one. Unfortunately she lives in a neighborhood which, my uncle made quite clear, is not used to the sight of a yard sale. Instead she decided to rent a U-Haul and drive all of her stuff from Phoenix to my house in Long Beach (a six hour drive). My parents planned to fly to Phoenix in the morning and return home the same day via U-Haul. While they were gone, it was my duty to see to it that my sister did not kill my grandma and vice versa.

Four things my parents did not tell me until the night I got home:
1. They decided to stay overnight in Phoenix, making me responsible for my grandma and sister for way longer than anticipated
2. I was expected to take them to LAX for their flight that left at FIVE IN THE MORNING, I was up at three.
3. Our TV is broken. This is particularly upsetting because I had planned to karaoke with my sister for the weekend, thus distracting myself from killing her
4. My dad's van, which I had to drive all weekend, had "UFCW Local 135/Please don't cross our picket lines/Thank you for your support" written on all of the windows. Thanks Dad.

I suppose it wasn't all bad, I did find one of my family's six TVs (keep in mind we have four people living in my house, yes that is one and a half TVs per person) that had the right hook-ups for the karaoke machine and the best part is that I was able to also hook it up to the sound system in the living room so my sister and I karaoked the night away in Dolby Pro-Logic 5.1 Digital Surround Sound on four celing mounted corner speakers. Oh yeah, there's always a silver lining.

The Eagle Has Landed

Ok, I realize it took me quite a long time to tell you that the karaoke machine has, in fact, arrived safely and unscathed by whatever natural disaster I am now convinced UPS made up to allow themselves an extra day for delivery. I don't mind the small white lie (is lying about a NATURAL DISASTER really ever to be considered small and white?) because truth be told, it arrived on the day it was orginally scheduled for, no harm no foul. Why has it taken me so long to announce the arrival of my new favorite toy? Because getting to actually use the thing is way more fun than writing about using the thing. So that's what I have been doing this past week just about 24/7 (midterms be damned!) with my loyal karaoke buddy, Jolene, and joined periodically by Tanya, Billy, Molly and Kate. (So much for the karaoke witness protection program). Jolene and I are well on our way to pop stardom, just in case anyone was wondering.

Endangered Karaoke Machine

This is what I picture must have happened.

Bad news, my, uh I mean Circle K's, karaoke machine has been threatened by a "natural disaster" according to UPS. It was supposed to arrive this Tuesday, but as of the last time I checked the tracking website, it had been delayed by some unnamed catastrophe. It's being shipped from Baltimore, Maryland (update: really?). Has anyone heard of any natural disasters lately in Maryland? Hmm, no. Gee, I do remember hearing about some natural disaster somewhere lately....a fire or something.....oh yeah, that was HERE. Here, where my, I mean their, karaoke machine is not. They shouldn't even be talking about natural disasters to us. Until I hear about a few 250,000 acre fires ravaging the East coast, I have NO sympathy! None. I want my, the, machine! So anyway, I will keep you all updated on the plight of our helpless little karaoke machine out in the (apparently) dangerous world.

Things I Found While Cleaning My Room Today

I especially like the incorrect apostrophe.

84 cents
a copy of the Bible written in Ebonics
a bottle of orange juice
a bouncy ball
a popcorn tin (yes, it had popcorn in it)
a yoga mat
another sticker from "The Velvet Touch" dry-cleaners with that famous proclaimation: "This man wants to clean your clothes"
an unopened chocolate bunny from last Easter
and finally.....
the notebook that incited the whole cleaning frenzy

Informercial Infamy

"Do people in your area ever die?"

This morning I was watching TV, as I sometimes do, despite the fact that it was a Sunday morning which is, hands down, the worst collection of timeslots a network has. At least in the middle of the night you can usually get some form of 80s sitcom run in syndication, but your show has to be really bad or really low budget to warrant a Sunday morning timeslot. So as I was flipping through Nascar races, preachy sermons and some show about giant killer bees taking over the Earth and imprisoning people in their (also giant) matrix of honeycomb, I stumbled upon an infomercial. I like infomercials. I've never bought anything over the phone, I don't like spending money and not having anything to show for it until a week later, but I do frequent "As Seen On TV" stores (call me an instant gratification whore if you will). My family owns a Miracle Thaw, a hand-held electric can opener, a JuiceMan juicer, a car duster, the Nads hair removal system, a microwave bacon rack, and three George Forman grills. I have literally dreamt of owning the pots that cook themselves. Now that I've justified my reason for pausing my vehement channel surfing on what most people would consider a lowly infomercial...... This particular infomercial happened to be just starting, the best kind. It had only begun to flash the requisite preface that usually goes something like, "The views expressed during the proceeding program in no way reflect the views of this network so we're going to let them claim that a knife can cut through a shoe and if you're dumb enough to believe it, we're pretty sure you'd never be able to figure out how to sue us for false advertising anyway." At this point, every infomercial holds so much promise. The anticipation that comes from waiting to figure out what the product will be is like waiting to open presents Christmas morning. You can imagine my dismay when I realize that this particular infomercial happens to be the worst kind possible. It was advertising one of those real-estate investing get-rich-quick seminars. These are the bottom-feeders of infomercial. They are the ones that give infomercials a bad name. Just as I was about to turn the channel and cut my losses after spending five minutes watching the opening (no infomercial ever tells you exactly what it is selling until at least five minutes after it begins), the "host" appears. After noticing the unusually small suit and tie he's wearing, I get over my initial shock and realize: The host is a midget! (Excuse me, "little person") This is no longer an infomercial, this is a freak show! My basic human instinct for spectacle now forbids me to turn the channel. I am transfixed. The midget little person on TV introduces himself as the co-founder of this "income expanding opportunity" just as his business partner walks out onto the stage. Yep, you guessed it. He too is...not tall. Two little people. Not just two little people: TWIN little people, wearing the exact same suit. What I originally assumed was a camera trick, turned out to be two brothers. Brothers who happened to be twins and also happened to be little people were now imploring me to attend their seminar. This begs the question, how many people actually go to these seminars to learn real-estate and how many go just to stare at the little people?