Repurposed Crab Bits

Next week we start the big move. …Again.

Long-time readers may remember that last summer, we loaded up two cars with me, my wife, our two rabbits, our turtle, my parents-in-law, and enough house plants to stock the rain-forest part of a mid-sized zoo, and drove 2,500 miles from Ohio to California. This move’s going to be different. This time, we’re moving 3,000 miles.

I’ll be gone for the next few weeks, as I down-vote people’s Yik-Yaks all across this great country drive, so I wanted to leave you with something good. One last dose of California weirdness (except for all the pictures I have saved that I haven’t shared yet). I now present to you:

Little statues made out of dead crab bits.

crab-fisherman

Goodbye, California… 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 
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Oh My Cod

getting-wet-for-crappie

ShadowJoelXL on Twitter writes:

I’m screaming. I’m screaming and Im inconsolable. Im banned for life from salvation Army. I dont care anymore

If I ever get too old to think “crappie” is hilarious, it’s time to give up the blogging game.

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Jurassic Snark

justin-wall-hanging

I’m trying to be a lot nicer in this blog than I have been—after all, the world has enough negativity as it is, with millions of Americans pranking on Donald Trump by pretending that they’re going to vote for him for President. He already has to live every day with the gamma radiation that gave him that hair and those tiny baby-hands. Hasn’t he been through enough?

So I won’t be making any hilarious snarks today, like”I bet this looked really cool before it was melted in a Creepy Crawler oven,” or “Justin? Maybe you’re JUST-IN TIME TO MAKE GARBAGE-ART!”

Instead, I’ll focus on the positives. For example, it’s clear a lot of creativity went into this piece (PIECE OF SOMETHING, AM I RIGHT?? Sorry, sorry, last one). I mean really, who says that dinosaurs can’t have eight legs? Can science even prove that they didn’t? I’m assuming that’s a dinosaur, anyway—it’s clear that Justin didn’t feel artistically beholden to traditional imagery, perhaps taking inspiration from abstract artists like Cezanne or Picasso, or those elephants who paint flowers.

And why shouldn’t all the letters be smudged together like the J has really bad B.O., and all the rest are trying to get away from it? Maybe it does have bad B.O. It’s not like I smelled it.

Bonus points for the pricing, too—after all, it takes a real outside-the-box thinker to sell junk like this for three bucks.

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[NSFW] Stress Chest

It’s amazing how the yard sales have gotten so much more R-rated since I moved to northern California. Sure, there was that one sale in Connecticut that had just mountains and mountains of porn; but beyond that you don’t usually see anyone’s naked bits, unless someone’s bending over to look at old train sets and you can tell very obviously that they forgot to wear a belt.

Next up, in “Mom, Don’t Read This” Week! …Well, we don’t see butts. We see something other than butts. (For the record, this one’s also appropriate for “Why, Just Why?” Week.)

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[NSFW] People Are People

MOM, DON’T READ THIS!!

Okay, phew. It’s “Mom, Don’t Read This!” Week here at Yardaling to Adventure, where I’m sharing all the great finds I’ve been holding off on posting, because I didn’t want my mom to see me writing about butts and boobs. (So don’t tell her, or else I might lose my allowance.) As This American Life might say, these posts will acknowledge the existence of sex, so read at your own peril.

First up! We’re starting off with this week’s tamest selection: a puzzle that’s just floor-to-ceiling doodles of naked people. Misshapen lumpy bits, scribbled-in pubes and all. Continue reading