Yesterday my friend JS and I were walking down Chestnut Street when I spotted a dime in the street and ran to pick it up. As we were turning to continue walking, a man asked me what I found.
A dime.
Here comes the reply: I find things all the time. I look through garbage. See these gloves...garbage. See this North Face vest...garbage. See this backpack...garbage. See this scarf...Paraguay. I just made $18 today when I found a bag of lady's handbags and took them to the consignment shop. I find a lot of things in rich people's garbage. A Persian rug, 3 Persian rugs, $1000 each. I found a George Bush doll, they only make 1000 of them for each president and it has pictures of his mom and dad in the box with him and you press the button and he says I'm President of the United States and President of all the citizens of the United States. Let's go to my ranch. I found $900 once. When I get enough money I'm going to buy a cabin up in the Adirondacks and fill it with Philly trash. Then I'll charge like $15 a person to come in and see all the trash. Did you know that Philly has the second lowest average IQ in the states. 17% of the people have bachelor's degrees. This place is weird. I'm from Long Island and I think this place is weird. But there's lots of good trash. What's your name? My name's Tim.
I am supremely jealous of this man and all of his treasures.
As much as we would have loved to continue this conversation, we are freezing so JS and I head off to continue shopping, dumbfounded. JS is convinced I will be this man when I am older. But I'm not that lucky. And I haven't resorted to sorting through rich people's trash...yet.
Monday, January 21, 2008
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3 comments:
I think you know this is your future -- your pause was telling. As in, "My name is Tim, what's yours?" Beat, beat, beat ... "Kim." Exchange of incredulous glances.
Also you forgot that your new friend has devised a money-making scheme that involves playing with people's hearts. Literally. As a cardiac ultrasound technician.
And THEN he's going to start the Philly Trash Museum, write a book about it, and travel exclusively to islands all over the world.
Soul mates.
i think that is your secret boyfriend. you were fated to meet him. was he gross? could he be good at rugby, or at least learn enough about the game to discuss it with you?
katy, yes to the first question, no to the second.
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