The Hoochier, The Better

All you poll-voting skeptics, I'll have you know that the ugly painting fetched the high price of ten smackaroonies on Saturday! That's right, campers. Ye of little faith who chose the comforter as the grand winner? It didn't sell! Nope, nope. Neither did the answering machine with red blinky light, if you can believe it. But the teacher bracelet? It went with another of its kind, two for a dollar.

The garage sale overall was a success, I'd say. I'd rate the people watching an absolute ten. I've never had a ton of experience with yard sale folk, but I tell you, there's a special breed out there who prey on yard sales. They fall into a couple of categories:

1. The hardcore professionals. These folks expertly skidded to a stop at the curb, cast a disparaging eye over our lot of goods, then lead-footed it out of my hood to the next one. They were clearly seeking something of value, something worthy, something other than my tables 'o junk.

2. The nosy neighbors. These are people who live in my neighborhood whom I may or may not know, who basically want to look at my stuff. They never buy anything, just scope out the goods and hang around to gossip.

3. The non-English speaking population of North Texas. I mean, the entire population. Thank goodness I know my numbers in Spanish, or it would've been a long day. These folks were the most enthusiastic shoppers. They tried on my clothes in the driveway, jangled my teacher bracelets on their arms, and then? They haggled. I had stuff marked to sell. CHEAP. But none of them wanted to pay asking price no matter what. It was great. Some woman had an armful of clothes and an arm of bracelets and I just looked at the mound and said, Five dollars. Four? she asked. Fine, I said. I was giving stuff away to get rid of it.

Speaking of, it amazes me what people will purchase used from strangers. The first thing to sell? One of those egg crate mattress pad things. For five dollars! Are you kidding me? Also? An old bed in a bag set that reeked. We took it out of the attic and when I dropped it on the ground, the smell that puffed up from it gagged me. Another five dollars. Ew. All of my teacher bracelets and both boxes of hair dye. And clothes? The hoochier the better. Not that I wear hoochy clothes, but I have to tell you that the shortest, tightest, lowest, sheerest clothes got snapped up in a hurry. Stuff that I was selling because I have, um, outgrown them were sold to many a woman 3 or 4 sizes larger than I. It was all good fun.

My favorite moment had to be when Mr. Pigs got tired of everyone talking him down and refused to back down on our $1 pricetag on a VCR tape of Austin Powers, The Spy Who Shagged Me. He was serious. Turns out, so was the buyer as he left the tape with us. Whew! I'd hate to lose that flick for anything less than a dollar.

Aside from the entire pregnancy I saw hanging out from between maternity shorts and a halter top, that about covers the hightlights. I'm up $150 and down two hours of sleep. Fair trade, I suppose. Thanks for your help, and remember - the hoochier, the better.