Posted by: Mike Ring | November 9, 2009

where Christmas goes to die

nonameWe did some early Christmas shopping this weekend in a little town about 20 miles outside of Baltimore. We walked through some swanky little shops and picked up a few things, then came across a country store and went in because some people on our list like poorly painted wooden knick-knacks with crap all over them. We walked around and found a few things then saw a sign that said, “Christmasland Downstairs!” I was very disappointed in myself for not having a real camera with them when we entered Santa’s whorehouse, but this image should give you an idea of what we encountered. It was wall-to-wall-to-ceiling-to-floor-to-holy shit I can’t fucking find my way out help me I am gong to die, Christmas stuff. It was everywhere, eight rooms of it and there had to be a million things crammed into them — no exaggeration. There was tiny path to follow and if you made in through without impaled yourself on a reindeer antler I think you won prize. It was not normal stuff either; a lot of it looked like it was made in the asylum down the street. The strangest thing was this hanging snowman head. He had a red hat, button eyes and a carrot nose — I think so anyway because the finishing touch was to blast his face with mayonnaise (I think was supposed to be snow) so the details could only be made out where someone looks to have scratched part of it off. It is my new favorite store.

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Responses

  1. sounds like the christmas episode of hoarders.


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