This weekend was the Olympic Manor neighborhood sale, otherwise known to us as the “season closer. It’s been really good, it’s been really bad, but we have hit this sale for at least the last nine years. The sales have started to meld together over the years and some houses seem to have the exact sale sale year after year.

The very first sale was so bunk that they guy was selling a used, dirty, kitty poop scooper. Are you fucking kidding me? Of all the things in life that I would feel comfortable buying new, poop scooper is at the top of the list. What are people thinking?

This year we hit a few duds, but then we hit one of the more memorable sales. It was crazy shopper lady mixed with all of the preppy daughter’s junk from the ’80s. I really started to lose my mind at this sale. Hobie ’80s bathing suits with screwed up day-glo colors? Check! Yeah, like 8 of them. What about ’80s jazz flats? Tons.

Jenny scratched the surface of the insanity with the Valley Girl’s Guide to Life book and modeling books. How about the Electronic Mall Madness game?!?!

Yes, that ended up in my trunk, since the guy refused to take my money otherwise. “No, I really don’t need that.” “Yes, of course you do. It’s free. I am giving it to you with your items.” I am too polite. Please note this is huge and comes with a fake credit card machine and the record store at the mall is called “Scratchy’s.” At least they didn’t also make me haul off this large painting (dated 1964).

Soon after that we stopped at a sale that they have every year in their garage. This year they had gotten a little crazy with their sign.

They always seem to have a very tidy and organized way of arranging things.

We have all purchased stuff there before so I can’t bag on it too badly, but this year it was a bust.

All in all it seemed a little better than the last few years, but mainly because of that one sale where I went crazy and a few other scores. A lot of houses really just had crap.

At least some of it was free, but even so. Sticking a sign on your old toilet does not magically turn it into “yard art.”

One of the last good sales had some really good books. As I was pulling some stuff out, Jenny pointed to a CD, quietly saying something about not wanting to embarrass the person running the sale. In my mind, it’s your sale — don’t you know what you have?

So, I held it up and the woman says “I don’t know where those CDs came from.” Yes, if that is in your pile of CDs, claiming that you know nothing is the correct answer.

We did hit a few sales outside of the neighborhood, but I think everything we purchased came from Oly Manor sales.