That’s Retarded

Warning: Long Post.

You know those things you say that you probably shouldn’t? Heh. Well, in certain circles I’m kind of known for saying things that are sometimes deemed “inappropriate” or “disrespectful.” I don’t know, perhaps people need to lighten up or get rid of certain archaic notions like “respecting the dead.” So the other day Heidi and I are performing our favorite Saturday tradition, yardsailing, and She comes up with the idea to just drive around until we find one. I prefer to use a slightly more scientific method- it entails plotting out a course of the city, mapping out the fastest route to visit sales posted in the paper and using my palm. I then map out the fastest course to the nest address while Heidi checks the current house for the items on our list. It’s a highly effective method, usually getting us to about twenty or more before noon. That’s the one I’m pretty sure Chuck Norris uses.

Like I said tho, that particular Saturday Heidi voted for mental telepathy instead. After about 30 minutes of a whole lot of nothing, we were beginning to, shall we say, “fight.” I was merely trying to remind her that my way was still an option. So, we find a sign to a yard sale. It’s pointing in the opposite direction of us. I turn us around. the next sign is pointing is on an intersection, kind of pointing diagonally. I think it was the third sign pointing skyward that finally elicited a reaction. “Those signs are retarded.” I kind of over emphasize the “ard” portion so its more like retaaaaarrrrrdddded. “Look at them, there scribbled all over the place and the last one pointed up- it’s a yard sale in space!” Now, Heidi is starting to think I’m making fun of the psychic lottery method for finding yard sales.

“Honey, come on, stop it- if you just followed the signs.”

“Then we’d be flying.”

“Fine. Just do whatever.” Now we were fighting over the retarded signs. Soon, tho, as we began to circle southwest Reno, she came around. “Boy, those things are pretty retarded- they’re all scribbled and have little words all over them. It’s like a little kid did’em.” We marveled at how much time must have gone into such crappy signs. Soon it was more of an adventure or a challenge. We weren’t about to let a couple tard-o signs keep us away- we were going to find this yard sale.

It didn’t let up either. All the way there the signs were a jumbled, misdirecting mess. It became hilarious and the challenge had re-forged our marital bonds. We were no longer battling each other but the challenged signs. We pull up and get out of the truck. “Finally,” I said, “we get to meet the retards who made those signs.” We walk up the driveway passing a few somber yard-sailors along their way out. From the distance it doesn’t look like a huge bounty, but there’s a bunch of people in the garage.

It’s not till we come up on the garage that we are confronted with the incredible truth of our journey, and all the careless words. They’re retarded. Everyone. It’s some group home- and their doing a fundraiser. “Thank you for coming to our yard sale,” one tells me as another lets me know he’ll help me find anything I’m looking for. I’m looking for a way out. Somewhere I can go to laugh my head clean off. After a quick perusal we’re off to the truck to explode. It turns out even Heidi couldn’t keep it in.

I know. We’re horrible. Before marrying me, I’m sure that she wouldn’t have found that as funny. But, you know what? It was. It was stinking hilarious. Not that people are challenged- that’s not it. It’s the whole morning, its the silly fight, it’s the irony of all that talk about the sign writers being retarded and then WHOA- it turns out to be true, and it’s the fact that we shouldn’t be laughing about it and yet we are.

We’re going to use her method for a while- I’m cool with it now.

By Ed Adkins on November 24th, 2003 at 3:02 pm

Topics: Communicado • Greatest Hits • Mem-wires