so i was gonna sit here on the porch & upgrade my MT but you just know the damn cheapass mofos would interrupt me. hmmph. comin’ to my g.r.o.j. (get rid of junk) sale insulting my uglyass old lady dining room table & such with offers so low you could use ’em to scrape the mousey dung of’n the legs. i happen to know it’s a very fine piece of uglyass furniture & people pay big money for uglyass shit all the time. i mean fuck. offers so raggedy i could use ’em to chase them black widder spiders out of that ‘antique’ card table holding up that cool yamaha keyboard, it has a whole orchystraw inside it somewheres and it gots some fancy edjumication module, it’ll teach any idiot how to play lit’rally whole buncha cheesy songs for crimeny’s sake, same model right now on ebay goin’ fer a hunnert fifty bucks, all i’m askin’ is seventy five and i’ll go fifty it’s sunday & all i sold so far is a slow clothes dryer, coupla shelves, some fat pants & a frog tool, it is sunday & i find i have a hankerin’ i mean i am settin’ here on the porch positively pinin’ for some tightwads to come insult me like they did yesterday early, i woudn’t be near as fluffy about it today.
taking into consideration the deep dip in my prices as the time has passed, & figuring that at least some & mayhap most of the folks who go garagesale-ing understand the psychology of desperation, i’m figuring the offers will be considerably more insulting, here in the middle of sunday. especially the way my sign’s looking, i figure they can smell the desperation at least a couple hundred feet away, if they know what they’re smellin’ for. and if they do, i assure you that they will be entirely accurate in that olfactory assessment.
i will have to take a picture of my sign. it is quite likely the world’s worst-taped piece of public information ever affixed to a power pole, i shit you not.
and since the flow of penny-pinchers has slowed to a trickle that is, well, nonexistent, i may as well run that upgrade.