Give It Away Now

Giving away your possessions just feels good

Roommate Scott finally moved out of our old apartment, meaning that it was time to undertake the long-delayed Stage II of my moving schedule: getting rid of stuff. Chief among the problem items was our old leather sectional couch, which neither of us wanted. After debating whether or not the trash man would take a giant couch and eventually coming to the sensible conclusion that we’d have to commit couchicide—cut it up with a saw and put it in trash bags—I hit upon an epiphany: we could give it away. A few hours and a slew of Craigslist “Free for the Taking” respondents later, our battered old sofa was off to start a new life with an MIT kid. Always a smart-looking piece of furniture, it finally has smart people sitting on it.

As I strolled around the old crib, I realized that the couch was just the beginning of my problems. It turns out that roughly half my possessions fall into the category of “I never use this, but it’d be a shame to just throw it away.” Fortunately for you, I’ve come down with a full-blown case of the feels-good-givin’-stuff-away bug, and the only cure is giving away more of my crap—I mean, valuable belongings. So here are a few other items from my inventory that you can have:

A small ceramic naked man that I got in China

He’s supposed to fill up with water and then pee when you tip him at the right angle, but I could never get him to fill properly, and by the time I found out he had permanent stage fright, I was 7,000 miles away from the scoundrel who sold me this defective peeing figurine. (If you’re ever in Shanghai, he’s about five-foot-seven, Chinese and sells souvenirs. You can’t miss him. Avoid this man, as his wares are faulty.) I can’t bring myself to throw the little guy away, though. If you’re mechanically inclined, maybe you could drill a hole in his head and install a stopper—it could be disguised with a tiny hat—and then he’d be hours of fun.

A selection of tapered pants

If tapered jeans come back in style, as they’re sure to do, you’ll be psyched to have my old pants. Most of them are well broken-in, but be aware that the cuffs are so small that you’ll have to grease your foot up past the ankle to get them on. I think I missed the boot-cut trend and went straight from tapered pants to the current style, jeans featuring cuffs so wide that a family of squirrels can move in below your knees and you won’t notice. Omigod, horrible thought: What if my old pants aren’t actually tapered, but my ankles have just gotten fatter? Do I have cankles? Do I? You can tell me.

Many fine books

Books are a striking element of decor if your collection consists of leather-bound Shakespeare and other nattily attired classics. John Grisham paperbacks and battered volumes of Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader, however, don’t make quite the same statement on the shelf over your mantle. Also, it’s impractical to hang onto a copy of The Kama Sutra given to you by an ex-girlfriend, because nothing sets the mood like the question, “Where the hell did you get THAT?” And that’s not the only impractical thing about The Kama Sutra, either. If you don’t believe me, just try the Maharajah’s Birthday Party Utmost Pleasure Delight Cantilever 88 (Inverted). This book was written by a previous, Indian incarnation of Ashton Kutcher, who would lure couples into attempting anatomically impossible feats and then jump out from behind a bush and yell, “You got tantricked!”

Can cozies

Up for grabs are several styrofoam can cozies emblazoned with witty phrases like, “Don’t flatter yourself—I was looking at your friend” and “Your village called: Their idiot is missing.” I’d say that I’m getting rid of these because I’ve outgrown their level of sophistication, but the simple truth is that I have too many coldie-holdies already, and I’m certainly not getting rid of my orange Hooters cozy or the one with a big rig on it, which I found in a parking lot. I guess I ought to give away the one I use at work now, though. My annual review is coming up, and the boss probably doesn’t agree with the sentiment that it’s hard to soar like an eagle when you work with turkeys.