Dave and Val: I just may stalk them.

Since there are a lot of you who read this blog that fall into the categories of

a) Yankee or

b) Ferner

I figure you may not know about the television show Junkin’. JUNKIN’, PEOPLE! Simply put, it’s the best! show! EV!er! Coming from the woman who watches nigh on NO television whatsoever, this statement carries a veritable assload of weight.

The premise is this: A guy and a gal toodle around the Southerin Yoo-nited States and hit garage sales, flea markets and yard sales. They riff on the crap they find, buy things that catch their fancies, then turn around and auction them on eBay; most of the time it’s at a pretty decent profit.

They call the El Camino (please recall the role that an El Camino will play in future screenwork by yours truly!) they boogie around in ‘The General Flea’…who in the WORLD loves a good play on words more than me? Darling, please look at the title of this blog.

The hosts, Val Myers and Dave Bird, are scrumptious. Val has that thing going on that simultaneously makes your man get all bunchy in the britches and makes you want to be her newest bestest friend. Dave is my junkin’ doppelganger; I find him awesome because he’s just like me in that he gets all lathered up over some piece of crap that everyone else finds repulsive. He gets so, so genuinely excited and I swear he channels yours truly during the show, saying things like, “I had one-a these when I was a KID!” and “This is the good stuff. Real wood. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”

And people, I should remind you: ‘THE GENERAL FLEA’!

My one complaint is that the show only lasts thirty minutes at a whack. Dave and Val need more airtime, as they are genuinely funny people.

For instance, from Dave’s blog:

“… I hereby abandon my mission to proselytize humanity concerning the virtues of the 8-track. I won’t be buying any more of them. I give up.*“

(also worth mentioning: Dave’s assessment that he was ‘puffed up like a toad’ from overindulging in a –terribly icky– Southerin staple, boiled peanuts)

As you can see from their outtakes, they’ve been all over the fine state of Hellabama in search of junk. It’s like we have a market on crap, or something. Whatever. I’m just pissed that I never know they’re coming. I plan on staging one HELL of a yard sale and leaking information to their producers so they’ll make an appearance on my front lawn.

It’s my secret fantasy, dear Muffinasses, to mug and cavort with Dave Bird on camera. We can make clever commentary utilizing fifteen-dollar words in our hick accents and TOTALLY confuse and astound the Junkin’ masses with the amazing dichotomy of it all! Better’n sex!

Well, the most fun you can have with your pants on, anyway. Go watch you some Junkin’, kids.

*He lies. There’s one listed this week.