(Circa 2006 -- The date stamp is a liar.)
We used to move some serious product. I think it had something to do with the chucks and santa socks; more people have twisted Christmas fantasies than you think. Of course, I'm not taking all the credit. As you can see in the photo, we had some great items to offer besides my post-purchase grinding skills. My dad would get so excited selling stuff that he would just start grabbing whatever he could from the house and slap a price tag on it, like my mom's favorite chairs, or my dowry. That's another story for another time, but I will say this: I imagine that loss certainly contributes to my perpetual state as a bachelorette. I'm pretty positive that my romantic allure would increase tenfold if my gentlemen callers still had the hopes of inheriting that microwave, coffee table, and broken papasan chair. Just the D by herself? Ehhhh, not so much.
In Case You Were Wondering . . .
Sometimes Ronnie D writes funny stuff. Sometimes she writes desperate teenage prose. Most times she just slams her feeble, little woman-hand onto the keyboard in an attempt to feel something, anything.