Hey, there’s nothing weird about my collections of vinyl records and German beer steins and uranium glass and sterling silver and quack medical devices and watches and books and pewter and brass and guitars and cameras.
I honestly started off with the intent of being funny, and then I realized how many fucking collections I have, and now I don’t really know what to do with myself.
You march your butt down to Lowes to get those big black totes so you can pile your collected items into them and stow them in a neat stack in the garage so that you have space for more collectibles. That’s what you do with yourself. Don’t forget the label maker!
Hey, there’s nothing weird about my collections of vinyl records and German beer steins and uranium glass and sterling silver and quack medical devices and watches and books and pewter and brass and guitars and cameras.
I honestly started off with the intent of being funny, and then I realized how many fucking collections I have, and now I don’t really know what to do with myself.
You march your butt down to Lowes to get those big black totes so you can pile your collected items into them and stow them in a neat stack in the garage so that you have space for more collectibles. That’s what you do with yourself. Don’t forget the label maker!
You collect collections.
I dub the Collectorius, the Collections Collector!