Laundryroom Swapmeet

Item:

A small red velvet purse with the word “beauty” written in rhinestones.

Why It’s Here:

Prior owner got sick of waiting for matching “the beast” wallet to come along. 

Probable Recipient:

Someone looking for just that much more constant validation.  I’m imagining an uncertain thirtysomething, going to bars to meet men and pointing helpfully to this thing when she catches their eyes. 

Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme:

Sorry, Disney lyricist, but I have to call bullhookey.  Tale as old as time?  The sub/dom, opposites attract, goodness-hidden-beneath-monstrosity themes of Beauty and the Beast as old as time?  Was there something analogous going on amidst those eventful first femtoseconds of the Big Bang?  I do not think so!

Even the latter claim seems like a stretch.  Song as old as rhyme?  That’s not a very specific delineation—are we to believe that this song is exactly as old as rhyme?  As old as and possible older than?  And in that case, is the song in the film a translation from whichever Ur-language first contained rhyme?  To say nothing of how a singing teapot would have such a thorough command of the history of song and language.

I’m not buying it.  I’m starting to think that movie wasn’t very realistic at all.

Item:

A great big pile of belts and and sashes.

Why It’s Here:

Switched to sweatpants.

Probable Recipient:

Jared, from Subway. 

Belts on a Table!

I want these motherfucking belts off this motherfucking table!

Item:

A transluscent blue lamp shaped like a dolphin.

Why It’s Here:

Previous owner felt it was too dildonic. 

Probable Recipient:

Someone who’s looking to make a statement.  Specifically, this statement:  “I have a lamp that looks like a glowing blue dolphin dildo.” 

Word of the day:

Teledildonics!

I thought we could take a minute and check in with the whole family.

I’m always singling them out, treating these sundries and variouses as just piece after piece of isolated swapmeat, if you will.  And that serves my purposes well enough—these oddities, or at least the photographs of them presented on this page, exist largely for my mockery—but it’s nice to be reminded now and then that there is a greater social sphere in which these items co-mingle. 

It’s not, in other words, just a collection of individual items—a pair of flipflops, a basket, some yarn, that damned fondue pot—but something more.  It’s a great big pile of crap, a melting pot of apartmental cohabitation.

A cheese-melting pot, maybe.  Is anybody ever going to take that thing?

Item:

A copy of Guideposts magazine, with Food Network icon Alton Brown on the cover.

Why It’s Here:

I’d like to think that all of the “true stories of hope and inspiration” turned out to be fake lies of despair and disillusionment.  Imagine this: some fiendish anarchist spends years infiltrating the Guideposts publishing machine.  Eventually they attain unquestioned editorial control.  And then it all comes crashing beautifully down when this Alton Brown issue comes out and every single heartstring-pulling story ends with the phrase, “…and then a puppy died.”

Probable Recipient:

A staunch proponent of the theory of Alton Brownian Motion.

So, Alton Brown:

Is he totally Bill Nye the Food Network Guy, or what?  Say what you want about watching food porn all day—Alton knows how to inject just the right sort of MST3K lo-fi production dorkery into his show.

I love looking through my apache logs.  For one thing, I’m a numbers dork, and all those delightful statistics simply please me.

But one of my favorite aspects of log-trolling is the search string rundown.  Of all my websites, the swapmeet gets the most interesting variety of search strings, and almost every one seems like disappointment manifest.  How must it feel to search for, as an example, “toaster cozy”, and follow a link to a post that offhandedly mocks the very notion?

It can not feel particularly good, is my reckoning.

The hits are so consistent, and so consistently weird, that I will probably add a daily search string feature to the sidebar, so you, faithful reader, can see all the weird crap that I see, and revel in all the laughable disappointments in which I revel.

But I wanted to write this because of one specific and superlative search string—a search string that not only reveals something about the nature of this site, but also stands as monument to the powerful stature that the swapmeet holds over very, very specific niches of the web.  What is this search string?

spell the noise of a fart

Are you amazed that that leads to this site?  If so, you will be even more amazed—and, if you are anything like me, tremendously delighted—to know that this site is the top google hit for that search.

And it make sense.  Frankly, if you need to know how to spell the sound of a fart, I can help you out.

Item:

A 500-piece jigsaw puzzle called C is for Chocolate, from “The Alphabet Murder Puzzle Series”.

Why It’s Here:

Previous owner found out that the butler did it.  Or maybe they were constantly grossed out by that picture of a bloody cake.

Probable Recipient:

Someone who really enjoyed “A is for Air Rifle” and “B is for Botulism”.  

Murder puzzles:

There’s a phrase that has so much more potential than what has been realized here.  Murder puzzle!  That would be a fantastic low-budget horror flick.  A cursed puzzle that kills anyone that finishes it!

Of course, the ending would be pretty anticlimactic—the protagonist figures out there are like three pieces missing.  But that’d be the perfect setup for the sequel: the final shot of the film is his young son finding the missing pieces under the couch, and looking curiously at the cardtable where the unfinished puzzle sits…and roll credits! 

There could be a whole franchise! 

“Murder Puzzle II: Edge Pieces”

“Murder Puzzle VI: Bloody Jigsaw”

“Murder puzzle XII: Back To The Card Table”

Item:

A well-worn pair of green translucent flipflop sandals.

Why It’s Here:

Someone finally broke down and shelled out for a pair of Tevas.

Probable Recipient:

Someone who values the total awesomeness of translucent green footwear over the questionable cleanliness of grungy black foot dirt.

Jolly Ranchers:

The used green flipflops of the confections industry.