Olympic Time

figure-skating-alarm-clock

BUM! BUM! BA-DUM DUM DUM DUM! If you’ve been able to flip away from the non-stop, 24-hour coverage of Presidential Candidates Say the Darndest Things, you might’ve seen some network coverage of the Olympic games! You know, like swimming! And running! And, uhh, the rest. (…And horse dancing.)

To celebrate, here’s an Olympic-themed thing I found earlier in the year, and never got around to sharing.

Is this…is it anything? I can’t tell if this is a rare tchotchke given to an Olympic athlete that definitely doesn’t belong at a yard sale (after all, it says “Presented to our United States and Olympic Champions”), or if it’s just a tchotchke, period. I didn’t ask, because my mom wasn’t there to do it for me, so we may never know.

(BTW, if there was a gold medal for “singing along with the Olympics theme song whenever it’s on TV,” I’d be on a damn podium right now.)

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Two Potato Clock!

two-potato-clock

I have a feeling that the box is just made up to look retro, but man, I really want to believe that this thing has been sitting in some person’s basement, unopened, since a very disappointing Christmas in 1967.

…With the potatos inside.

(You’re gonna need a bigger potato bag.)

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The Hour of Slam

space-jam-clock

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hang it up anywhere people can see it,” he says as he traverses the house, trying to find the perfect lighting for his new Space Jam clock.

GOD I love Ohio sales. You wanna know where I found this? At a “barn sale,” where everything was FREE. EVERYTHING WAS FREEEEEEEEE. AND IT WASN’T EVEN JUST ONE BARN; IT WAS THREE BARNS. AND EVERYTHING WAS FREE. I PAID ZERO DOLLARS FOR MY SPACE JAM CLOCK.

I’M RUNNING OUT OF FONT STYLES TO EXPRESS HOW HAPPY I AM ABOUT THIS.

I’ll be sharing more from this sale in the coming weeks (because of course there were a million awesome things), but for now…

Come on and slam. And welcome to the jam*.

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*Or, if you prefer, any number of the Space Jam remixes (yes, this is a thing):

She Was Eaten to DEATH

*ahem* Let’s get doewn to business; we have a lot of madeerial to cover. (…I’m so sorry. Those are some of my worst puns yet. My Aunt Ler would be so ashamed.)

Today’s adventure started off with a “blue light”—which is, as described earlier, a term my mom coined for yardsales that sneak up on you, like that axe murderer that’s creeping up behind you right now. Although as it turned out, I did see this one listed on Craigslist the night before. The post just had one critical flaw:

They didn’t include an address. Which—as you might imagine—is a bit of a problem when you’re trying to visit someone’s house. My GPS is an older model; it doesn’t understand how to get me from Spring Street to “near Route 67, past where the old supermarket used to be.”

So how did I know it was the same sale? They mentioned in the post that they had a bunch of gravestones for sale, and, well…

They sure did!

My favorite, by far: “Here lies BETH. She was eaten to DEATH.” (Although “SALLY BASS got overcome by GAS” comes in at a close second.)

A whopping $50 for the whole lot though; they must’ve read my post about ridiculous Connecticut Prices, and took it as a challenge. “Oh, he thinks $4 for a scratched up CD is bad? Just wait until I charge half a hundo for these cardboard things I painted!”

Although that said, for only $5 I could’ve taken home this fantastic lobster rug:

…but it’s a good thing I didn’t get my claws into that; I ended up buying another awesome rug at a different sale, and I think if I brought them both home my wife might’ve boiled me alive. (Like a lobster.)

Later in the day, I came across… Continue reading