Dip, House Fires and Practical Jokes (2116-2149)

Image 1

“This bag is dead to me.”

Image 2

I’m gonna try to consign this bag o kid’s clothes today and then get offended when they accept nothing. I’m trying to raise money for my monkey’s new cage.

These aren’t mine. The belong to Aimee, my newest devotee in the cult of minimalism. She asked for my mobile number because she wanted to “send me a picture.”

Sexting! Yay! I’ve always wanted to see her boobies!

Instead she sent me pictures of her junk. Even better.

She’s gearing up for the anger/hatred that comes from consignment. I am totally simpatico about this.

There is a place in Boulder that gives you money up front (hooray) but it is insultingly low (boo!) Like garage sale prices. $1.50 for an Anne Klein cashmere sweater, perfect condition? There I am, swearing under my breath as I take the pittance.

The number one reason to never buy things new is that it isn’t worth anything once it leaves the store. iDeeli promises good deals but if you don’t panic and take the time to look around on the internet the same price can be found elsewhere. AND it doesn’t arrive for six weeks AND it doesn’t fit AND it will cost $8 to return. Fuck. That.

Sometimes you score on eBay, but you have to deal with their shit, too. For instance, Zeb is selling a shirt for $42 and someone offered him $10. Zeb ignored it so the guy sweetened the deal.

How about $10.05? Tempting. That 5¢ could be a deal-maker.

This guy’s a juicebag so Zeb decided to fuck with him. He counter offered $41.95. This could take all day.

What I dig about Zeb is how he likes to toy with people. Unless it’s me, of course, and then I detonate.

Like the cat hair spliff (as in marijuana cigarette for those who don’t live in New Amsterdam aka Boulder) or when he screwed with the Nigerian scammer on Craigslist. He plays the psychological game. He figures out what his target wants, where their mind naturally goes, and then he plants a trap and walks away. Totally fun to watch. Totally sucks to be the target.

Like when I first met him we went to a Dip Party. Everyone brought a dip, tagged it with a number and then at the end of the party people voted for their favorites. He brought a lovely vintage bowl full of crest toothpaste. He set it down and walked away. I fell for it first (and kind of fell for him because I LOVE PRACTICAL JOKES) and then took part in the fun.

I passed the bowl around, saying, “Have you tried the after-dinner dip?” and watched with glee as someone loaded up a chip, put the whole thing in their mouth, had that moment of uncertainty where I could tell they were trying to put their finger on a very recognizable taste, and the ran for the bathroom with a foaming mouth. Later that night I had my first martini in his kitchen (and rode my bike home in the snow because back then I wasn’t easy).

I think I just fell in love with Zeb all over.


Tagged items waiting for someone to come get them.

I got a little worried that I’d have to dig deep for today’s haul. Then I glanced at a vintage radio cabinet that is disintegrating in our dining room. I opened the bottom shelf and BINGO!


Everything here is from that drawer. This house giveth. Tabby is getting the metal shoebox because she has the other three.


I’m going to check on eBay to see if these are valuable. They are definitely vintage.


These are leftover cabinet fasteners from the first time I remodeled the third floor kitchen. Then it burned down three months later (bummer) and I remodeled it again. Good thing I still have these, right? TRASH.


See? Totally vintage.


More rando stuff. TRASH.


This is the second one of these I’ve found. Zeb gets them at garage sales because they look scientific and educational. We did one and you know what? They are sucky and disappointing. The picture of the crystals on the cover (if they were actually a result of this set) must have been taken with an electron magnifying glass. You can disappoint your kids too, for FREE.


Tea lights. FREE.


Travel Scrabble. All parts accounted for. $4.


More candles. Why don’t I want them? Because if your house looked like my house did after a fire, you’d be jumpy about open flames, too. $3 for 25 tapers.


Yep. This is my house on fire. After my article in the paper a couple days ago a very nice and generous reader doubted that I had a fire at all and no one should feel sorry for me. I agree, no one should feel sorry for me, but I did have a fire.




Me in my remodeled kitchen.


Good thing I have those fasteners. I bet I can screw those cabinets back together.

11 thoughts on “Dip, House Fires and Practical Jokes (2116-2149)

  1. I know I’m a day late on this one, but wow, you never showed me those fire pics. Someone “doubted you had a fire at all & no one should feel sorry 4 u…”? I guess all the jerks & creeps & pigs & dogs start yapping & howling & grunting & slobbering when you’re in the paper. Forget it, they’re just jealous of your awesomeness. Wish I was around for the $3 candles.

  2. those candles, I might ask you to just put ’em in a drawer or closet or cupboard ’til next time I visit, whenever that might be…which I know is not quite down w/the process. put ’em out on the sidewalk

  3. My closest friend had a house fire that destroyed everything of hers. It was a horrible ordeal, and I would be unbelievably angry at anyone who suggested it hadn’t happened. I’m sorry someone treated you that way.

    • Thanks Becca, that is so kind of you. I try to give people the benefit of the doubt (after I have a little fun at their expense) and hope that if they meet me and had a real conversation, they wouldn’t be so judgy and glib. It’s the main downfall of the internet, IMO.

  4. Pingback: Liebster Award! | Vivienne's Process of Elimination

Leave a Reply