So we wonder how blonds got such a bad rap. Well, about five years ago, I added my pea to the pot and contributed to the idea that blonds might really be one fry short of a happy meal! Here's my story. If you've ever hung out around a campfire with me, you've probably heard this and know what's coming. You have the right to skip this one.
Like every good garage saler, I thoroughly examine the "garage sale" section of our free Salesman publication every week and highlight what interests me. "Neighborhood sales" always catches my eye and it happened to be in the trailer park just a few miles from my house. (Stop it, I know what you're thinking. But what's wrong with garage saling in a trailer park?). So I hop in my truck and drive like a maniac Friday morning to the park, making sure I'm the first in line. After driving up and down several streets, I've not noticed one single sale. I'm about to leave in a huff when I notice 2 bikes with a for sale sign out by the street. Behind all the trees I see a beautiful looking yard sale!!! I park and hop on out. A large, grumpy looking man is sitting on his wood porch by the front door, waiting for his money box to fill up. A rake. Looks brand new! Just what I need. I hate it when things don't have prices on them! "How much for the rake?" I enthusiastically inquire. "It's not for sale!" comes the reply. Okay then, why's it out here with all this stuff? Stuff, I quickly notice, consists almost entirely of stuffed animals. I find another treasure and repeat my question, with the same response, only this time much more emphasis on the "NOT" for sale part! I keep digging, and a few puzzled moments later, he stands up and declares, "Lady, this is not a garage sale!" I go back home and snack on some humble pie. Then I check the ad again. The neighborhood sales aren't until the following weekend.