Not to be confused with The Collector movie

I’ve mentioned here and there that I collect things: dictionaries, carved wooden Santas, napkin rings, funky earrings, and mah jongg sets, among other things.

I’m not alone here. Indeed, I’m not not even close to making it into the The Mammoth Book of Weird Records.

There are people out there collecting

• love dolls
• dolls dressed as nuns
• aluminum can pull tabs
• belly button fluff
• airsick bags
• banana labels
• nail clippings
• already chewed Nicorette Gum
• wooden toilet seats
• cow hairballs
• pictures of cement mixers
• toothpaste tubes
• vacuum cleaners
• key chains
• back scratchers
• beds
• empty pizza boxes
• clothing tags
• Walmart receipts
• husbands (or wives)
• traffic cones
• umbrella covers
• teabag labels
• autographed drumsticks
• dildos

AND THE LIST GOES ON!

Think about the sort of person who might collect these things. And why. Who is comforted by plenty? Who wants to be distinctive, not one of the masses? Who sees it as a mark of economic superiority? Or maybe there’s a family competition going on.

Are you a collector? What and why?