Wednesday, August 10, 2011

it could have been this

Saturday night, Suzie was telling us she'd had a bad year. Her dog, Steve, died. She had surgery on her back. She had a run-away car incident and slammed into the PO doing 50 mph. She had to give away her bird, Herbie, because he got aggressive. And she retired. I said, "Suzie, you are one relationship away from being a bad country song." If you knew Suzie, it would be funny.

We went to a consignment auction last night. Vickie has been telling us what good deals she gets there and how much fun it is. We got there about 4:30 so we could look over the stuff. That took about 30 seconds. Unless you were interested in moldy old bed sheets or railroad memorabilia, there wasn't much to draw to. We stayed for about an hour because Regis had a mild interest in an old camera but then we hightailed it outta there. Some of that old crap went for almost 300 bucks. WTF

We sort of understood what was going on when the woman was "calling" if that's what you call it. But when the dude took over (he looked like he had spent every day of his life under a blazing sun) there was no hope. He started doing the rapid jibber-jabber and she would yelp like a terrier every time someone bid. Wait...wait...what? We were clueless. I was afraid to scratch my ear for fear I would make an unintended bid on a rusty Western Union sign.

There was quite a collect of, let's call them characters, at this auction. One old guy appeared to be sleeping until an old cow bell came up for auction. He jumped right up and won it for 20 bucks. One guy went out of there with such a pile of shit I thought someone should call his wife and warn her.

I don't really get this collectible thing. Some pieces of junk are worth a ton of money just because someone else wants it. Some pieces of junk aren't worth anything because everyone either has one or doesn't care. Crazy world. Between this auction and the garage sales in Iowa, I have seen a ton of crap change hands in the last week.

We went to Pappageorge for dinner. We love that place because the food is very good and it's quiet. Some drunk from a nearby hotel had discovered it, too, and he was holding court at the bar in a very loud voice. He had his food to-go but continued to order beer after beer, order additional onion rings to go, and have intimate conversations with his fiancee on his cell phone. In another cell phone conversation, I heard him arrange to have them driven from the wedding to the reception in a golf cart. That's the kind of decision a guy should only make sober.

All in all, it was an interesting evening.

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