Sunday, January 22, 2006

Cover up.

I still have a picture of a girl that I went out with for a short while tacked up on the top of my computer desk, even though we haven’t talked for years. When people come into my room, they always think I keep it there because I still have feelings for her.

But really, I just keep it there to cover up a crack in my desk. I guess I find her photograph a bit less unsightly than a strip of duct tape.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Heroin by Playskool.

I have an admission to make – I am an addict. Normal people get addicted to the usual vices like drugs, sex, and alcohol. But I am not normal.

For Christmas, my brother bought me a Mr. Potato Head doll. Now I’m hooked.

It wasn’t your normal Mr. Potato Head. It was the special limited edition Star Wars Spudtrooper, complete with Stormtrooper armor and not much else. The real appeal of having a Mr. Potato Head is the ability to change it from one outfit to another. With the provided accessories, the only options for his appearance were Stormtrooper with mask or Stormtrooper without.

I still appreciated it, though, and made due with mixing things up from time to time by sticking his feet in his mouth and his arms in his eye sockets. But random disfigurement can only be entertaining for so long.

A week or two after receiving the plastic spud, I was walking through Target perusing their post-holiday clearance when I happened upon a Space Spud Accessory Set. It was full of tentacle arms, pointy ears, and googley eyes to assemble into a Potato Head alien – and it was at 50% off.

I was sure I had finally found enough accessories to keep me satisfied, and at a great price, but soon I grew as tired of the fangs and antennae as I was of the trooper’s white armor. I wanted more. I needed more. I couldn’t be stopped.

I went to Walmart and bought up every accessory they had. I didn’t even care that it wasn’t on clearance. I went on eBay and bid on any lot I could find with any kind of accessory different than any that I had. Each new piece I got was like a hit of cocaine. I wanted the fireman hat. I wanted the handlebar mustache. I wanted every single piece ever made. When I discovered that they had special Potato Head parts sold exclusively at Disney Land, I asked everyone I knew in California to go there just so they could get me the limited Pirates of the Caribbean outfit.

By the end of my bender, I had over 200 different Mr. Potato Head pieces.

I still want more.

I think I need professional help. I wonder if there’s anyone out there who specializes in Potato Head addiction. I’d go look someone up, but right now I have to bid on a Potato Head mermaid tail with seashell bikini.

Saturday, January 14, 2006

I’d prefer to be remembered for clean boxer-briefs.

I have this morbid little habit of making sure my room is perfectly clean before leaving on long trips in case I die enroute and my parents decide to leave my room untouched as a shrine to my memory.

I guess I just don’t want the shrine to my memory to be a heaping pile of dirty underwear in the middle of my floor.