I work in a town of 22,000 people. Apparently they're 22,000 cheapasses, since there are three dollar stores in town. Each one chock full of crap. Wonderful, cheap, useless yet intriguing crap from every corner of the globe. Here's a sampling:

Let's start with "Fine European Chocolate."

It ain't fine. I don't think it's European, unless there's a candy factory in Eastern Crapovia. And I sincerely doubt that it's chocolate. It's a big seven ounces of vaguely cocoa-ish waxy substance. With crispy bits. Really awful. I eat about one a week.

Now let's have a drink of "Abuelita"!

The English translation is "Grandma." As in, "Let's have a nice hot cup of Grandma!" or "Do you want marshmallows in your Grandma?" The image is ostensibly a Grandma having a cup of...Grandma. Or maybe it's actually Grandpa in drag getting his final revenge. Either way, a satisfyingly cannibalistic experience.

Feel a party coming on? It's time for "CheddarFetti"!

I love product names made from two completely disparate elements. "It's cheddar! No, it's confetti! Hey, it's CheddarFetti!" And the box design is irresistibly enthusiastic. The bright colors and cheerful hyperbole effectively hide the fact that these are essentially oddly-shaped salt wads. Still, a food item that begs to be thrown at people who have more to celebrate than you do is worth a buck.

"Clicker LIcker": the annoying child's multi-tool.

Ideal for any kid with ADHD, this ingenious little toy straight from satan makes a truly astonishing amount of noise. The clacky head thing drowns out sonic booms. The whistle is piercing in its intensity. And the sucker has more sugar in it than a Hillary Duff movie. Thank god it's a choking hazard, so there's a chance the torture won't last long. A couple of these in the wrong hands could disrupt the whole SETI program.

And who could resist "Prairie Belt Smoked Sausage"?

From the packaging, you'd think this sausage was made from ground up boy. Unfortunately, the ingredients list exposes the real truth: Beef tripe. Pork spleens and stomachs. Tragically, no ground up boy at all.

A friend of mine offered a guy twenty bucks to drink the juice from the can. He did it. But I don't think he'd do it again.

Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of my favorite Dollar Store item of all time: the NASCAR tampon display. It was glorious. Macho driver in macho uniform with macho car all over a Kotex rack. I don't understand the connection � does the car have a smooth plastic applicator? Or is the driver extra absorbent?