5/21/07
We live in a disposable society, ladies and gentlemen. With particle-board furniture and mass-produced home décor, it often seems just easier and just as cost effective to pitch that bookcase with the crack in the side and get a new one. While I understand this sentiment, I’m more in the opposite court where I keep just fucking everything no matter whether it could ever be of use again. I have a crate full of random lengths of speaker wire because, y’know, just maybe I’ll need to connect a speaker to something only four inches away. I hate to even mention the cardboard boxes and metric tons of plastic grocery bags I’m apparently saving in case Jesus needs us to carry some shit when he comes back. Even I realize this is not normal behavior. But it is a far cry between my inner pack-rat and the bald-faced madness that Hanni and I witnessed Saturday afternoon.
My dear girlfriend took a bag of garbage out to the apartment dumpster and I was beginning to worry because she’d been out there an incongruously long time when finally she came through the front door loaded down with bags and objects like a miner’s pack mule. For a moment I believed that something had gone horribly wrong in the “take out the trash” plan, and she had rather desperately misunderstood the point of the exercise. But no, dear readers, as my fair fiancée explained in gleefully breathless tones, she had just hit the mother-load of all trash-scavenging. It appears one of our small female neighbors was moving out, and instead of packing various items like a person, this tower of fiscal idiocy just threw out a bunch of her stuff. And we’re not talking trash here, either, folks. Just take a look at the treasure trove of perfectly good shit this dizzy broad tossed:
Your eyes do not deceive you; not only did this dame pitch a working television, but it was actually still in the box, unopened. 
Food? Friggin’ cans of food? Where are you moving that you no longer require edibles? And that’s a box of Ramen noodles with a single package missing. The madness!
The clothes were the most shocking. We literally pulled something like four or five trash bags full of clothes out of there, some with the tags still attached. And these weren’t cheap clothes; we’re talking The Limited and Express and shit.
Cast dispersions upon us if you will, but there was almost zero actual garbage in the dumpster we were diving, and letting all this perfectly good stuff just get carted off to be buried in some dump that’s probably several feet from a nature reserve or something seemed downright criminal. I mean what kind of asshole, rather than drive the 10 minutes it takes to drop by a Goodwill donation station, just chucks her clothes and food and things into the damn trash? “Oh, I just don’t want to pack it,” I imagine her saying. “Also, fuck the poor.” What a total bitch.
I like to think of myself as somewhat of an amateur detective, my qualifications including the fact that I’ve seen The Last Boy Scout twelve times and used to read Encyclopedia Brown. But aside from gleaning the fact that Mary Sunshine over there was perhaps the most selfishly wasteful human on the planet, pawing through her clothes and possessions did provide some interesting clues as to her personality. Hanni and I had no end of fun imagining this woman’s life from her leavings.
She is, for instance, if not a slut than at least dressed for the part. One particular crotch-length skirt seemed to hint at this. She’s also had several jobs which are related to the previous comment, such as Hooters girl, which wouldn't really be fairly represented unless I modeled it for you.
I’m guessing the following was a Halloween costume. Damn I’m fine.
The best scenario Hanni and I could come up with for this wanton disregard for the fact we’re trying to have a society here is that Moving Girl has joined a cult and had to discard all her worldly possessions. In the most ass way possible.
There were other things we couldn’t quite reach, as we stopped just short of actually hopping into the thing. It was too full for that anyway. But I saw at least part of a lamp and a fairly new blender which we would have taken had it not been missing the lid. We’re keeping the bean bag and some of the clothes and the food, of course. The rest goes to Goodwill or the Salvation Army. But this instance has created its own sort of problem, in that now I want to check every dumpster I pass for buried treasure. Not since Aaron and I were just inching into puberty and spent a savage amount of time checking trashcans and dumpsters on the fantastically slim chance they held discarded pornography have I felt such an urge. Now, as an adult, there’s something slightly embarrassing about being elbow-deep in garbage. But one other good thing has come of it; I can rest assured that any woman willing brave reaching into a dumpster to pull out a can of peaches is definitely the one for me.
BONUS!
This is m’lady in a fine-ass Matrix-style pleather coat this foolish broad threw away. Some alterations have been made.
No comments:
Post a Comment