Saturday, June 2, 2007

I've Got Chills, They're Multiplyin'

Today was the big block club yard sale, so I hauled my crap to the sidewalk and was, as always, amazed at people's taste. Perfectly good humidifier in excellent condition? Still have it. Adorable pink mohair sweater? Went with other unpurchased stuff to the charity shop (which does not take humidifiers because of bacterical concerns. I looked at the worn, stained used furniture and witheld comment.) Yet, the used hair products sold. Every one. I'm talking half-used hair conditioner and various used hair gels/waxes/sprays. Gone. Seriously. People would rather do the equivalent of raid my bathroom than get a steal on really nice stuff. It's always entertaining.

Lisa, Beth and I went to "Sing Along Grease" at the Music Box. Watching it now, I realized a couple of things:

Sandy is really annoyinng, pre-final spandexed transformation. And she's supposed to be.
I really like Rizzo.
Young John Travolta is eminently spongeworthy.
The songs still rock.

As I hang out with people more and more, I'm also realizing that most people spend a ridiculous amount of energy finding fault with trivial things and going out of their way to be unhappy about really minor situations. Overwhelming circumstances/hormonal surges/clinical depression aside, being happy or unhappy really is a choice. I have a headache. Tomorrow will be me, my bike, and a coffe shop. After I plant those cherry tomatoes.

3 comments:

J Bolognia said...

If you hadn't thrown my picked-with-love Dermalogica products back in my face, you could have made a mint. But no, you're still poor, I am looking increasingly better and Andrew's bum is finally acne free.

JC said...

I'd like to see you try to convince hard-core yard-sale shoppers to pay any kind of money for anything. I sold the hair-care stuff for a quarter each, and began the day in an argument for refusing to reduce the price of an almost brand-new Cuisinart mini-processor that I was asking the extortionate price of three dollars for. How I managed to get through the day without a single "FUCK YOU!" is a miracle.

SP said...

Probably by realising that you don't know how to say that in Russian.