I did not buy this amateur painting, despite my soft spot for amateur art, because it's obviously too creepy, even for me. Also, this is just a detail of the work—the canvas covered an entire wall. That's a big commitment.
At this sale, an entire room was given over to Coke collectibles. I was there on day 2 so most of the bottles containing the original formula of Coke (not Coke Classic) and the short-lived New Coke were sold out, not that I would've bought any since my Coke-drinking is confined to the occasional Diet Coke on an airplane when the sad airplane coffee has left me with caffeine-withdrawal symptoms. Coke collectibles always depress me—it seems like the sort of collecting that's forced on someone rather than voluntarily pursued. Take, for example, that family member (i.e., your dad) who is impossible to buy gifts for. One day someone's like, Hey, Dad drinks Coke! Let's get him a deluxe limited edition Coca-Cola Uno set and a nine-foot-tall stuffed Coca-Cola-quaffing Polar bear and then there's no turning back. How many collections start out this way, I wonder.
I did not buy this rad Magnavox turntable/radio/record cabinet because Lindsay bought a similar Telefunken stereo cabinet eight years ago—a Telefunken that doesn't actually work but makes a fine surface area for displaying tchotchkes.
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