Heather Christena Schmidt

So as I mentioned yesterday, we are housesitting for my dad. Sort of as a last minute decision, we decided to have a garage sale of our things we wanted to get rid of, as well as to let the oft-promised lemonade stand finally come to pass. Really I think garage sales are the most disgusting things ever, but we did it for the lemonade stand. This had to be done at my dad’s house eventually, unless we wanted to be like those apartment dwellers that hang up their WARES AND LEMONADE FOR SALE on the nearby STOP sign – and we figured this weekend was easiest so we wouldn’t be bothering my dad at all.

But I wasn’t just going to have a plain old, humdrum garage sale. That would be too normal. I decided, instead, to make it as absolutely hillbilly as possible. I decided to make it an A Hootin’ and A Hollerin’ Hillbilly Brawl Garage Sale.

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Of course we put signs around, and to be honest our signs were pretty badass. They were large and on foam core board. About 1/2 way into them being made, though, I realized that this was far too classy for my A Hootin’ and A Hollerin’ Hillbilly Brawl Garage Sale, so I decided to post an ad on Craigslist too.

It read:

A Hootin’ and A Hollerin’ Hillbilly Brawl Garage Sale

I’m just kidding. Unless Uncle Cletus shows up unannounced and with his banjo, it is unlikely there will be any “a hootin’ and a hollerin’” at this garage sale. Of course there will be, though, if you find our WARES FOR SALE so spectacular that you yelp and shout uncontrollably out of sheer, second-hand finds ecstasy.

Have you ever been to a garage sale and felt like you needed to shower after you got home?

Ever picked through a pile of items strewn about in someone’s front yard and gotten some sort of unidentified, gelatinous gunk on your hands?

Was there ever a time when you saw an item you actually wanted, but it was in such disrepair that you thought your dollar might be better spent on that rotten potato you saw at the Farmer’s Market that no one wants, despite its striking resemblance to Rick Moranis?

You will have none of those problems at our garage sale, this Saturday in East Ventura.

We have:

Kid’s Clothing (Sizes 2T — 5T, 6 and 6X)
Kid’s Toys
Baby supplies (Strollers, Highchairs, Baby toys)
Books galore
Kitchenware
Adult’s Clothing (Women’s Sizes M-L, Men’s Size S)
Lawn furniture

. . .. And much more

Also featured, we will be  selling lemonade and baked goods. For 25 cents you can procure yourself a glass of the freshest lemonade this side of the Conejo Grade, whilst perusing our used, yet in quality condition, WARES FOR SALE. I have included a PhotoShop of Rick Moranis holding our lemonade sign in hopes this will entice you to come.

Hope you can come out. Leave Uncle Cletus and the banjo at home.

The Sale

We basically just threw everything into boxes and threw it out on the driveway. A few years ago when I was working in politics, I helped with a garage sale fundraiser and they set everything up very nicely on tables, only to bring in about $100. In just two hours, my worthless shit spewed around on the lawn made me over $170.

Possibly the classiest part of the event was when my mother showed up. That’s right, my Trailer Trash Mom came to help out – being trailer trash and all, garage sales are her thing, and when she called to mention that she was leaving for New Mexico next week, I happened to mention the sale in jest. She brought some of her own things to sell, not a single one of which did. And in the defining moment of the event, she set them up on display on a turned-over Poise Pantyshields box she had gotten out of the dumpster at my grandma and grandpa’s assisted living apartment complex.

Yes, faithful blog followers, you read that right. A Poise Pantyshield box dug out of a dumpster to display her mugs and miscellaneous wares.

She also hit on every cotton-pickin’ hillbilly that came up to the event, and tried to start picking through the neighbor’s dumpster. You see, my dad’s neighbors recently got a divorce and the nasty bitch that got to keep the house ordered the largest dumpster known to mankind to throw out the ex-husband’s stuff. He showed up during our garage sale and they started fighting; then he helped throw out the trash as he attempted to haul away things he wanted to keep. My mother, being the trailer trash that she is, confirmed that she will be returning tonight to jump into the dumpster and pick out the things she wants.

So that was it – my A Hootin’ and A Hollerin’ Hillbilly Brawl Garage Sale. The last time I attended a garage sale as a purchaser, I was looking for an antique typewriter (which I found), but felt the same way I do right now: like never participating in one again. I also need to take a shower to wash this hillbilly brawl filth off before it seeps in and I start losing teeth.