I Love Tuesday πŸ’™ | Perforated Lines
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⚑ March 4, 2014

I Love Tuesday πŸ’™

An old magazine cover showing a couple of older folk -- which is us, now -- sitting on the deck of a boat, listening to the radio.

An old magazine cover showing a couple of older folk -- which is us, now -- sitting on the deck of a boat, listening to the radio.

It has finally begun to sink in that I am really and actually fired. I have no job. I really really hated that job, so I am happy. For the first time in a long time, I am working for myself. The last time I tried this I was so scared of the idea of working for myself that I jumped right into the UFO magazine opportunity just to … get ready for it: Have a Job.

If I’d been smart, I would have kept going with the new thing I was making on eBay with the cool handle of Fleamail, which I still have to this day; although, it’s been used without my permission in their ads. What can I say? It’s that good of a username. That was in 1997.

I should have stayed with it because it was starting to do really well. I’d gotten hundreds of dollars for stuff that was just sitting around the house, and I really knew how to write good ad copy and take really interesting photos.

Wait … let me show you … and no, not so fast. I’ll put that photo of an ice pick for sale up in a few minutes, but I’d just like to finish a couple of thoughts while they are still moist and fresh. Basically, I’d like to personally – is there any other way? – thank all the guys who have fired me so that I could hop on along the open trail, now that I am free to go. The biggest firing, the most memorable one, was perhaps CIA-related. I don’t know.

It could be. It might have happened the way I remember very vividly. So now, now that I’ve been fired – again, I’d like to re-consider needing a real job. If I were in Oregon right now and able to talk heart-to-heart with my first born, she would probably, maybe, be able to set me straight and help me accept the no-job thing.

I don’t know. My own mom is dead, so she’s spared this humiliation, but then, she felt every one before this one, so that’s sad. She probably thought she raised an idiot or a failure or someone just like my dad.

And, it’s the truth I have to face. She did.


eBay Flashbacks

My own private model of the Visible Woman. Probably sold on eBay in the 1997 era.

My own private model of the Visible Woman. Probably sold on eBay in the 1997 era.

I realize that I’m in danger of losing that part of my life forever if I don’t check the old CDs where I’ve stored the photos. They are stacked in the actual Happy Hippy Hut on a high shelf over the couch, and it’s been icy cold for the last few weeks and I haven’t been out there in a while. But here’s a couple of photos for now.

Shiny, but flawed Art Deco vintage coffee service.

Shiny, but flawed Art Deco vintage coffee service.

Another of my eBay tableaux, this time leading to heartbreak because I told the truth about one of the wooden handles on this shiny deco coffee set. There are stories behind these scenes, which I will link up eventually. I’ll let you know by talking about it here. Or, remind me. πŸ”