You know me, lovey. I don't ask for much. But you also know how much I love stuff.
So it should come as no surprise that I come to you now, asking for help with my obsession.
I'm no hoarder. Not even much of a shopper, or yard-saler. No, what I covet most in my random collection of must-haves are items that someone else has. I tend to want something owned by my nearest and dearest loveys. You know you've done it too; someone else has something you never even noticed before, and now, you need it. (It doesn't matter that you haven't done that since elementary school. Now, back to me.)
I don't ask for much. But I would like to have the shirt off your back.
See this t-shirt? It doesn't matter that it's a size XXL, and that it could fit you and me at the same time. What matters is that I only had to beg my brother for it for about a half-hour before he caved. Score!
|Funny graphic tees are my weakness!|
My latest score is a coffee mug from a co-worker. There's nothing special at all about this mug, guys. Except for his inexplicable tie to it. He carried it around like it was physically attached to his arm. Anytime he left his desk, so did the mug. Either he was way too attached to it, or he was deathly afraid of being roofied if he left it for 5 seconds. Whatever the case, I helped him with his addiction, and asked him if I could have it. That mug is happily sitting in my kitchen, now bedazzled and renamed Snoop Muggy Mug. I know, I need help.
I also like to trade my super-scores. Like this nifty Power Balance bracelet, for example. I'd just gotten it in black from my lovey Miguel, when I saw someone else with the exact same bracelet in red. Yes, please!
(Sidebar: This bracelet gave me no power whatsoever. I fully expected a full-on He-Man transformation when I put it on. I may sue.)
|He-Man voice: "I have the power!" |
Except it didn't go down like that at all.
And then there's this little gem, taken right from my big sister's kitchen:
|Lost a wing during the trip, but still cute as can bee.|
(Ha! See what I did there?)
Remember back in school, the crappy art project we had to make, only to bring them home and have Mom "accidentally" drop it so it smashed into fragments, and had to be thrown away? No? Oh. I guess that was just me.
Anyhoo, this was something my little brother Nim made:
|Nim's pal Dan dabbed brown paint on there. |
Just in case it wasn't already fugly enough.
No, not when he was 5 years old. He was like 17. And both his hands work just fine, thank you. So you can see the level of effort involved. Didn't matter to me though. He made it, I coveted it, and here it sits, in my family room, on top of the bookshelf, behind the candles and under a stack of books. Proudly displayed.
I'm not denying I have a problem. Not at all. Actually, that's why I'm here now, asking you for help. I can't do this alone, loveys, and that's where you come in.
Remember, I don't ask for much. So I need you to step it up, and really have my back here. Almost like an intervention, except an outervention is what this situation actually calls for.
What I really need...what will totally quiet the beast that is my Stuffaholism, guys, is this hat:
|"I make this look good," said Bruno's hat to Bruno's face.|
Not a hat similar to that. And not a hat from some crappy designer fedora line he's promoting. No. What I want; what I need is that. very. hat.
Now is that so much to ask?