I am selling my first item on e-bay.
The Beer Guy says it’s “the devil’s work.” But I can’t help it – the lure of easy money, the thrill of the chase, the rush when the transaction is made, the exhausted, satisfied feeling once the deal is done.
I’m a whore on the information superhighway.
So far, I’m surviving. I’ve gone through a couple of spells where I’ve spent too much money on shit I didn’t need, ODing like some junkie who needs a fix. But I’ve managed, for the most part, to keep my appetites in check.
I know I’m going to get raped one day. I hear stories from workmates and family all the time about how somebody jacked their identity and cleaned out their bank accounts. Life got straightened out eventually, but for the most part, they took it high and hard where the sun don’t shine.
Not me. I’m swingin’ it, flaunting it along the roadside, just beggin’ somebody to come make me an offer. I’m so scantily clad out there is cyberspace that I’m afraid if I stop and think about it, I’ll end up crumpled on the floor, all cold and quivering.
So I don’t think about it. I just put it out there, waiting for strangers to fight over me like some two-bit hooker doin’ the best she can to work it.