The Pilgrim Congress

Funny you should ask dear readers (and by readers I mean the viagria-bot and cialis-bot that are so fascinated with our posts that they comment incessantly.  Thank you spambots, you make us feel like someone really cares about what we’re doing here.  Wait, what was I talking about.  Oh yeah my weekend), I repeat, funny you should ask dear readers!  My weekend was chock full of fun going ons!  Recap, you demand?  Well, if you insist.

Friday was not all that interesting.  The end.

Saturday the husband and I headed over to our friends’ house for a little renovation party.  We laughed, we cried, we painted doors, we cried again, we painted more doors, we started plotting the destruction of all doors, we painted more doors, we fantasized about a door free world.  Our friends just moved into this great new house and we love them.  We express our love via door painting, its just our way.

Sunday (also known as today, but whatever), we went to the HOLLIS FLEA MARKET!!  Excitement abounds!!  Hence the CAPS and exclamation points!!  Here’s the thing, this was totally my first flea market and it was quite the shit show, and we all know how much I love a shit show.  Let me begin at the beginning.  The husband and I thought it would be awesome to get rid of the massive amount of stuff we seem to have accumulated since our college years.  We literally had a storage unit full of old furniture, about ten million books, clothes, random business and the what not.  In a moment of pure genius I decided that it would be awesome to sell all of our stuff at a flea market!  Wouldn’t that be so cute?  And fun?  I had pictures in my head of hippies and grandmothers searching for great finds, happy to turn their money over to me for my random shit that I have deemed unworthy of being owned by me.

(Confession: A couple of weeks ago I announced to my husband that we would be making $1000 at the flea market, then he countered with a lower figure, a figure in the $200 range.  I was so insulted that I actually lectured that he had no idea how wonderful and lucrative the flea market is… stupid husband. Who was actually right.  But that’s beside the point.)

Fast forward to this morning, five o’clock this morning to be exact.  We packed up our Jeep chock full of useful wares just waiting to be purchased!  Then we drove, and drove, and drove (have I mentioned that we live nowhere near Hollis, NH?  That I found this flea market through a random search and once I located it, I didn’t feel a need to search for a flea market that is closer to where we live?  Well lets just put that out there now).  After what seemed like a cross country road trip we finally arrive at the wonderful, glorious, HOLLIS FLEA MARKET!  Except it was not so much wonderful or glorious,  as it was dirty and sketchy, but I can’t be bothered with those details.  Here’s the thing, it was nothing like I pictured.  It was not hippies and grandmas, it was frightening people who did not want to pay more than a dollar for anything.  After a couple of hours it became clear that there was no way that we were going to sell all of our crap and it became equally clear that we were not digging the idea of hauling all that shit back in our Jeep.  I just want to pause here to explain that I’m what’s called “a solution oriented person” and I am also what’s known as “someone who likes to create a riot.”  Our predicament at the flea market presented me with a perfect opportunity to embrace both of these aspects of my personality.

Want to see people totally lose their shit at a flea market?  Start screaming, “FREE!!  EVERYTHING HERE IS FREE!!  CLOTHES!  BOOKS! FURNITURE! EVERYTHING FREE!!”  People didn’t know what to do.  First, there were confused looks, followed by questions demanding to know if everything was really free, followed by the realization that these frigging flea market amateaurs were giving shit away!  Good times had by all.  There was a rush of people to our lot, all of our stuff was taken, and it was awesome.

So, final verdict on the Hollis Flea Market?  I will never go back.  I thought the people were just a little scary and it just wasn’t my scene, much as I love the smell of urine mixing with the smell of hotdogs (did I mention the spot we were assigned was right next to the restrooms and concession stands?  Score) I think we’ll stay away from the Hollis Flea Market for the next five decades or so.  Long story short, though it was fun to create a small public disturbance by giving away all of our castoffs to people who clearly live to get that chochski for a dime instead of a quarter, it was not a super fun way to spend a lovely spring day in New England.  Sorry, Hollis Flea Market.

Now I had intended to take photos of the flea market so that you could feel like you were there with me, but that kind of fell apart along with the rest of our flea market business plan, but I do have a photo for you!  Its not a flea market, but it is me suffering the after effects of the flea market!  Little backstory here, I had some dental work done last week (some very expenseive frigging dental work) and ever since I have had ever increasing pain in my jaw.  Well, after we got home from the flea market my jaw decided to punish me for forcing it take part in Operation Cause A Riot At The Flea Market, so here is what I look like now:

Oh Jaw!  You may have won this time, but tomorrow I’m taking you back to Dr. BankAccountDrain to have you put in your place.