The Eight Secret U.S. Presidents

Hey guys, look! It’s a Space Jam stylus for your home tablet!!

space-jam-stylus

(Less blurry picture available here, although it’s not the same exact one I found.)

Okay, yeah, I know you’re probably getting tired of Space Jam (haha, like that’s a thing that’s possible), but this one comes with a story.

I found it in a museum.

Specifically, this museum:

museum

I’m not going to say what it is or where it is. The person who runs it seems to Google himself pretty regularly (or maybe his kids do, or else he just knows when someone’s talking about him on the Internet), and I don’t want him to find this. Please don’t try to find it yourself, either; I don’t want anyone harassing the guy because they read my dumb post about it.

…But this f***ing place, oh my god.

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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*.

Wanna help “Yardsaling to Adventure!” grow? Do your Amazon shopping through our affiliate link!

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

Awww Yeah, it’s a Tag Sale!

Now THAT’s how you advertise your sale.

Despite going to over a dozen yardsales this Saturday, I didn’t end up with all that much loot. My actual purchases included:

I’m actually kind of in love with the car. One of my favorite parts of the Christmas season (to this day, mind) is piling into the car to hunt down a Christmas tree—not in a lot, because my wife and I aren’t weenies, but in an actual farm—and then chopping it down myself with a friggin’ AXE, just like my forefathers used to do it.
 
That’s not the best part, though; the best part is drinking free hot cocoa while someone else spends the next twenty minutes struggling to tie the thing to the roof-rack.