I could smell the excitement in the air – my first garage sale – in an actual garage – was less than 24 hours away. I was about to break my “please stop touching my stuff” cherry and I was a little more than thrilled about getting actual cash for my belongings. For the past ten years I have fed a terrible habit of just putting my stuff on the curb and watching the old man down the street take it away. I swear to god if you roll up his garage door – my entire house is inside it. I don’t know what he’s doing with my old blow dryers, hi top sneakers, broken hangers and dvd players but he is probably making a small fortune on ebay – selling my shit. He probably has a fucking butler on my dime. So, it was time for me to sell my own shit. But where to start? I don’t know anything about yard sales in Los Angeles. I’m the girl who NEVER stops at one. And they are EVERYWHERE. I don’t buy other peoples shitty shit. I like to spend good money on my shitty shit and then give it away. So I called in the experts – MJ and Victoria – two of my oldest and closest friends – and certified yard sale experts. I’m quite certain they actually have some kind of diploma or degree somewhere in this trade.
I was selling a bunch of stuff, my ex roommate was selling a bunch of stuff and my friend Brian was selling a bunch of stuff so we put all of our bunches of stuff together in my garage. Now my roomates stuff was your basic stuff – paper shredder, Vancouver Canucks flag, a snow globe of NYC. My stuff was a bunch of clothing from some good labels, a couple of very nice end tables from Mitchell Gold and some high end sunglasses. But it was Brian who really brought the high ticket items – items NO ONE AT A YARD SALE WOULD BUY. At least – that’s what we thought. He had so much shit from DWR – he could open an outlet store. If you don’t know what that is – it’s expensive – overpriced – magnificent furniture. Again – stuff no one is buying at a yard sale. People don’t roll up with a thousand dollars. They come with coin purses. And they are holding them tighter than my grandmother held her secret chopped chicken liver salad recipe. But we were determined. This shit was not staying in our garages. It gots to go. So, MJ and Victoria came over and fixed up all the items and helped me price everything. And then while I was very busy seeing a play – they did all the footwork and hung all the signs in the neighborhood. I’m such a dick. I went to the bank and got 100 dollars in singles so I could make change – and went to bed nervously hoping – gosh I hope my crap leaves my house before I do.
The sale was advertised to start at 8 am. At 7:48 a handsome older gentlemen came by. “Mind if I start early?” Nope I said. He then began to pick up and touch every single fucking item in my garage and I immediately started to panic. This is not going to be fun. After 30 full minutes of caressing things – he left – with nothing. Fuck you dickbag. This was going to be rough. But then things picked up and so did my anxiety. It’s not that I didn’t want to sell my stuff – I just didn’t like all these people pawing our things and sort of turning their nose up at the price. “You want thirty dollars for this table?” “Yeah, it cost 1200 fucking dollars. Is that okay?” One woman actually told a story about how she had to JEW SOMEONE DOWN at a yard sale once. Thankfully – I didn’t hear that – or I would have killed her on the spot. There was an old man who refused to pay 25 cents for a Disney mouse purse. There was the woman who would only pay 25 dollars for a stereo system because it didn’t have a remote. I’m like – bitch – you’re buying a boom box for 25 bucks – is your house so big you can’t go push the button? There was the old man who bought glow sticks even though he didn’t know what they were, the lesbian couple who had to go in my house to try clothes on and look in a mirror, and the awesome woman who bought some of my clothes then returned with a sample from her line of weed cookies. (They were delicious) It was a cavalcade of freaks, geeks, and extreme cheapos and thank Jesus that Victoria and Brian stayed with me because I was truly afraid for my life at times. A ton of friends stopped by to say hi and give five bucks here and there and overall – it was quite the day. We even sold Brians snobby ass expensive shit. We almost sold it all.
At the end of the day I took my hard earned stripper singles and decided to go buy my dog Tulip some treats. It felt good to be out of the garage and back in the real world of normal people. But as I began to carry my stuff out to the car I heard the next woman at the counter say – “Can I ask you a question? My cats are going through something right now…” I love you Los Angeles but you are one weird mother fucking town. I hope the next time I have a yard sale it’s an actual yard I’m selling that sits in front of my big phat pad that I’m not even at the sale for because I’m in Tahiti with my 35 year old boyfriend. Peace Out.