Ah, ah ah ah, Table Five! Table Five.*

Whenever I move, I weed and discard stuff I don't really want anymore. I'd sell it in a yard sale--or, more accurately, an abandoned-lot-down-the-block sale--but to be able to sell my stuff, there would have to be more than a handful of people here interested in ironic coffee mugs and pretentious film theory.
Actually, what I usually do is get a big box and label it "FREE STUFF" since I can't be bothered to have a sale or get it to a Goodwill. I'm also usually discarding stuff up to the point of departure, and why take up precious movie space with crap I don't want?
Plus, I know I always enjoy pawing through crap people have left on the sidewalk. My friend Nate in Philadelphia found Marquee Moon on vinyl that way. I was terribly jealous.
Here's a list of the kind of stuff I'm getting rid of. If anything catches anyone's eye, let me know. We may be able to work something out. Otherwise, everyone in my call list will continue to get text messages saying things like, "Remember that black Hilfiger bag I have? Do you want it?"

• The DVD of Gosford Park I got for free when I opened my bank account here.
• a Care Bears mug. I'm keeping the Care Bear Cousins one.
• a black belt with glittery silver skulls-n-crossbones I got at a Philadelphia clothing swap party
• the Clash on Broadway box, on tape
• a biography of Stanley Kubrick that took so long to come out with an updated volume after he died that we went have a semester without the damn text. Also, the biographer is so far up Kubrick's ass, I'm frankly impressed he was physically able to write. Act fast on this one if you want it: (Former) Wacky Neighbor Billy has also expressed interest.
• More librarian tote bags than you can shake a stick at!
• the Beach Boys double record I bought at the Squirrel Hill Record Exchange that lived in my car (this was Midge) for months
• a bunch of old lady clothes I got conned into accepting through liberal use of the word "vintage". I'm keeping the bright pink and yellow plaid cape, though.
• shoes like the espadrilles I was H&M hypnotized into buying** or the black pumps I used to learn to walk in heels with, stomping around my Lexington apartment. I ordered them from Fredericks of Hollywood, and I'd be willing to bet whomever lives at that address is still getting at least one catalog a week.

And why do I have so many goddam phone books, anyway!?

*-ahem- Disco Stu likes disco music.
**Seem this is why I need to always shop at H&M with a loudmouthed, judgemental sister and/or friend.