Alaskan Crap

This is the breakfast of garage sale champions. I still don't understand what they are trying to say to us.

This past weekend was quite unique. We did something that I Never do. We went garage sale hopping. I actually pulled up all the garage sales in the Anchorage area and we actually went to them one by one. Just to let you know, the entire day we did not see one gun, rocket, or missile launcher. I was very disappointed. By the time we were done, I realized several thing about myself that I never knew before. The first and foremost is that I am a “garage sale snob”. I learned that I really don’t like other peoples crap. If they put it out on a table, it probably should be thrown away, not sold. Dianne did not agree with me, so we searched on anyway. Second I found that I have a strange curiosity towards the weird and bizarre. To give you an example, one garage sale advertised that they were selling, “grandmas owls”. The only reason that I even agreed to go garage sale hopping was to find out what “grandmas owls” really were. Well, that and the 2 dozen railroad ties that were for sale…

We got lost and found homes that we will never be able to afford. That is an airstrip in front of the houses.

We went to several houses that I would estimate to be worth several millions, and I found that the strangest garage sale crap jewels came from them. The first example would be a great house on a mountain that looked like something I would buy if I was a zillionaire. They had antique answering machines, a Mac classic, several “tube” radios, and a Commodore 64. I sold a Commodore 64 when I left Florida for $5. It came with a 1541 hard drive, monitor, printer, and hundreds of games. At this garage sale they wanted $7 just for the computer itself. I think I now know how they got so rich… They were also selling railroad ties. I just stopped and stared. I think they wanted like $12 each for them. I just wanted to know how you were going to get them home. These things were big! What I was really interested in was the Snow Cat in the second house barn. I don’t think it was for sale, but it looked really cool.

We continued doing this the entire day. Dianne would get out and look around and I would sit in the car waiting to hear if this was the house with grandmas owls. We never found grandmas owls, so we decided to give up and go to lunch.

Lunch was at a Mexican restaurant that I will call, “hot sauce hell”. They actually used the hot sauces that so many people collect for decoration. You know, the ones with the names like Black widow, Death in a Bottle, Slap my ass and call me Sally. Well, they not only used them, but got quite a kick out of seeing people eat there “tainted” foods. I would take a bite of there “salsa” and scream from pain. Several seconds later you would hear faint laughter coming from the kitchen area. I invited Dianne to partake in the tainted food from hell. Not knowing the strength of the hot sauce, she quickly downed a mouthful. She screamed, her eyes watered, she drank both our glasses of water. I snickered under my breath. I thought to myself, “the kitchen staff isn’t the only one enjoying this…”. She looked at me through tear stained cheeks, and asked, “why would you do that to me”? All I could say was, “misery loves company - I love you honey“. I stared to snicker, but it was interrupted by a big glob of hot sauce being pushed down my throat. I desperately grasped for water - There was none to be found. I learned that you do not mess with a pissed off wife that has hot sauce at her disposal.

After surviving the inferno laced Mexican food, we decided to go home and take a nap. Hopefully we could sleep through the pain that was coursing through our mouths and stomachs (later it would be other areas that we were more concerned about…). On the way home Dianne found another garage sale sign that I had left off our list of places to be disappointed at. She turned down the street and into an Alice and Wonderland Maze. I figured if we ever found this place, it would be filled with jewels of epic proportion. I would be sadly mistaken again.

She did manage to find the garage sale. Once again, she got out and looked while I stayed in the car and wondered when I would get feeling back in my tongue. Minutes later she came rushing back to the car like there was a .50 BMG for only .25 cents. I quickly rushed out of the car to get the mispriced weapon of my dreams. I was greeted by not a BMG, but Grandmas collection of owls. They were everywhere. Not only were they everywhere, but they were as old and strange as anything you could imagine. It looked like a 50-60’s revival fest in that garage. The owls were not only old and scary, but overpriced. This was something that I had come to expect from garage sales, but they had taken it to a whole other level. Grandma was making a profit on those owls. I think she wanted a dollar for every year of there strange lives. I wanted to take a picture of the owls, but was afraid that they would charge me for each picture. Either that or try to steal my camera and sell it for $430,543,780,543.99. I would gladly split the profits with them.

Dianne wanted to keep this, but I insisted that it must go to her mother.

So after finding that we could not afford grandmas owls, that hot sauce is sometimes “no kidding - really hot”, and that rich people have the strangest crap, we decided to head home. It was not a total wasted day though. Dianne was able to purchase a product that she will be giving to her mom. It is a “Grow a Boyfriend doll”. All you have to do is add water, and in 72 hours you have a new mate. Granted, you have to soak him in the bath tub for several days, but that is just a small price to pay for the perfect guy. Luckily there was only one, so I am safe for now.