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Janie Trades Me Ancient Dominos for Fear and Loathing of Penguins

Terminator Penguin, an item in bARTer Sauce
Terminator Penguin, an item in bARTer Sauce
Terminator Penguin, an item in bARTer Sauce

Janie was oddly quiet while I held her down and forced her to answer my "interview" questions. It might have been the duct tape that I put over her mouth during the parts where she wasn't supposed to talk. So I guess "oddly quiet" isn't the right description. Exactly right quiet. That's what it was: 

Q: How long do you think it would take to teach a monkey to sew?
A: Obviously it depends on the monkey.  Spider monkeys can learn easily, as they already know how to weave. (Their monkey spider webs) 

Kevin Trades Me Perpetual Motion Machine for Tiny Wedding

Kevin, with paintings on his fingies
Rosalie and Kevin, doin' a bARTer Sauce trade
Rosalie and Kevin, doin' a bARTer Sauce trade
Kevin, at First Thursday Art Walk - doin' a trade with The Sauce
 First Thursday Art Walk - doin' a trade with The Sauce
Rosalie and Kevin, doin' a bARTer Sauce trade
This was parked outside my studio and Kevin took a picture of it

As in normally the case, I subjected Kevin to several of my "interview" questions.

Q: If you heard that sometimes people go into a room heated to 105 degrees and 40% humidity and do 90 minutes of yoga, what would you say?
A: No thank you.  My aerobics class at the YMCA is plenty for me.  No need for additional torture.

Q: What kind of potatoes are your favorite?

Eric Trades me Fear and Loathing of Penguins for Big Painting

Rosalie and Eric make a bARTer Sauce trade
Rosalie and Eric make a bARTer Sauce trade
Rosalie and Eric do a bARTer Sauce trade
Rosalie and Eric do a bARTer Sauce trade
Rosalie and Eric do a bARTer Sauce trade
Rosalie and Eric do a bARTer Sauce trade

Eric was kind enough to tolerate a batch of my "interview" questions.

A note from The Sauce -- all of my references to Jo Jo are about my friend Jessica who is a roller derby lady and a burlesque lady and a crafty vunderkind.

It may become apparent that I have no idea what vunderkind means. Or, by some chance, I may have used it correctly. Either way - keep it to yourself.

Fear and Loathing of Penguins

Original Owner: 
benwah
An Item In bARTer Sauce

Eric's Story that Came With Fear and Loathing of Penguins:

French Phone

Original Owner: 
SpankyHam
French Phone
French Phone
French Phone
French Phone
Will's Terror Clown from Childhood

Will's Story that came with the French Phone:

I am scared to death of clowns. I've started trying to get over this fear by collecting the scariest clown shit I can find.

I wrote this funny story about it once:

Mr. Magoo is not to be trusted. The same goes for clowns. If the circus has one thing, it has clowns. It has clowns by the carload. Creepy, scary clowns menacing cross-dressing midget clowns. It was the worst.

Punk Rock Baby Farm Diorama

Original Owner: 
Meghan
Diorama Depicting A Farm Where Rebellious Infants Are Raised

Here's Meghan's story about "Punk Rock Baby Farm":

It was in a Safeway parking lot where I had my first notion of the conspiracy. I pulled into an angle spot and as I was gathering up the possessions I would need for grocery shopping, I looked left, out my driver's side window, and into the passenger's side window of a minivan. My eyes fell upon the thin hair of a baby's head - no older than a year.

Only seeing the back of its head, I couldn't figure out if it was a girl baby or a boy baby (as this is always my response when I meet someone new). It must have sensed me looking at it because slowly... very slowly... it began to turn its head toward me. Its eyes were narrowed in a sinister glare which held me frozen for a moment and sucked the breath from my body.

As the baby trapped me in its gaze, it reached around its body and pulled out a switchblade. With precision skill, it flipped open the knife and ran the blade across its tongue. That's when the mother of the baby got back in the car and they began to drive away. And instead of saying, "hey lady! Your baby is from Hell!" or, "hey lady! You know you're supposed to have children up to seven years of age in the back seat, right?" or, "hey lady! You dropped a twenty!" I just sat there. Paralyzed. Not with fear, but with wonder.

I sat there as the minivan drove away, baby eyes following me until they turned the corner. I sat there and watched as someone else pocketed her cash. I sat there in wonder.

And then I knew what I had to do. I had to find the reason - the explanation - to solve the mystery! But first I had to get my groceries. So, after I did that, I spent the next ten years of my life chasing after this baby conspiracy. I know it's hard to believe, but somewhere in the southern region of Melbourne Australia - hidden away by the producers of Lost - is a Punk Rock Baby Farm.

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