Clown Taking a Sh*t

Sorry about the break last week. Here’s a painting of a clown taking a sh*t.

clown-taking-a-shit

It’s perfect for any house that wants a painting of a clown smiling and taking a sh*t.

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Not Helping

THINGS THAT MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER WHEN YOU’RE UPSET
Hugs, soothing words, frozen yogurt, a good movie, “Don’t worry; I’ll do the dishes this time!”, dogs, naps, etc. etc.

THINGS THAT MAKE EVERYTHING WORSE:
THIS, BASICALLY:

clown-wiping-tears

Kid probably wasn’t even crying until this frickin’ guy showed up and tried to rub things on his face.

Siege of the Pot Golem

Snot!

…I’m sorry; I just wanted to start this post the same way I started my day: with a big steaming pile of nose goblins. And they weren’t even my own. When I stepped out of my car at the first sale of the day, I was greeted by this guy just…blowing it all over his driveway. Like he was putting salt down to melt ice. I was afraid small children might slip in the alarmingly large puddle forming near his shoes, but he didn’t seem to think it was weird. Maybe I should be thankful it was just snot.

After that explosive start (at least for him), I might’ve just taken it as an omen and headed right back home, perhaps muttering some clever jokes about how “well, that’s southern Connecticut for you!” (and secretly counting the days until we move to Ohio, which I’m told is a fantasy land of everlasting sunshine [citation needed]), but not this day. Thank goodness, not this day.

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Get In Your Pumpkin!

When yardsaling, common sense dictates that you find the best stuff the earlier you go, at the first yardsales you visit. Your competition—aka, your fellow salers—haven’t had a chance to pick through everything yet; the “good stuff” should still be there, waiting for you to hold it up and stand around awkwardly while you wait for someone to tell you how much it costs. (Or is that just me?)

…Theoretically. The problem, however, is that this is a false thing. Over the last several weeks, I’ve been finding that the first few sales of the day are always—ALWAYS—a total bust. Why? I’m not sure. Maybe the good stuff hasn’t been taken out of the attic yet, or maybe the people who start their sales during the wee hours only do so because the only things they need to set up are their three rugs.

Either way, for the first several yardsales today, the most exciting thing I found was this:

Now, I’ll grant you—angelic biker Taz is a pretty rad (and also very specific) collectible. Also confusing; as a rule, I tend to avoid anything that makes me ask “What EXACTLY is going on with that man’s torso?” (No, seriously—what the hell? Are those Taz-shaped pantaloons? Is he standing inside an albino pumpkin? Is…is that what heaven is like?) But it’s not what I drag myself out of bed at…8:30 for. Continue reading