I used to collect action figures. Which means I collected toys. Which isn't so bad until you realize I did this in my 20s and early 30s. But I had lesbian impulses to sublimate.
I was once part of the sad, sad group that stood outside Toys R Us at 9:25, waiting for the doors to open so that we could rush in and get our Star Wars figures, our Hot Wheels toys, our Xena figures, etc. I did not collect all of these things, but I got into my own crap (mostly Xena and female action figures of pretty much any type, including Laura Linney from Congo -- betcha didn't know Laura Linney had an action figure!).
Anyhoo, I relived this obsession a bit when I had a few free moments the other morning. I had to run an errand near a Toys R Us, and wandered in for a few minutes to see if I might want to pick up any last-minute goodies before the boys' birthday party. I went to the Cars area and saw a guy speaking what sounded like Russian into a cell phone ear clip. He looked with great suspiciousness at me, and eyed the cars I'd selected (not really rare ones, I later learned).
"Do you have anything you might want to trade? I am looking for a Chick Hicks," he said. Though it sounded more like "Cheeck Heeks." He also said it was for his kid, but I saw right through that. He made small talk by telling me that the really good ones don't even make it to the shelf, they get grabbed by employees, who make extra scratch selling rarities on the secondary market. I knew this happened, though I didn't know what a hot commodity Cars toys were and are. I declined his offer of a trade, as I pretty much had what I needed and felt sufficiently skeeved out just being near him.
Then, in line, I ran into some guys with armloads of Hot Wheels. One of them, feigning small talk, complimented my choice of Cars and asked if I needed a Hamm. This is a car version of the piggy bank character from Toy Story (don't ask -- it's complicated). I declined. My boys like the race cars, not the Carsworld spin on famous Pixar/Disney characters from prior movies.
I used to be like those guys. I tell myself I'm different now: I'm not buying for me, I'm not obsessed with getting a mint package (as the package will just get ripped open anyway). But the pursuit of Cars and, to a lesser extent, Thomas trains, stirs this addictive part of my nature that scares me a little.
Now I need to find a DJ.
I was once part of the sad, sad group that stood outside Toys R Us at 9:25, waiting for the doors to open so that we could rush in and get our Star Wars figures, our Hot Wheels toys, our Xena figures, etc. I did not collect all of these things, but I got into my own crap (mostly Xena and female action figures of pretty much any type, including Laura Linney from Congo -- betcha didn't know Laura Linney had an action figure!).
Anyhoo, I relived this obsession a bit when I had a few free moments the other morning. I had to run an errand near a Toys R Us, and wandered in for a few minutes to see if I might want to pick up any last-minute goodies before the boys' birthday party. I went to the Cars area and saw a guy speaking what sounded like Russian into a cell phone ear clip. He looked with great suspiciousness at me, and eyed the cars I'd selected (not really rare ones, I later learned).
"Do you have anything you might want to trade? I am looking for a Chick Hicks," he said. Though it sounded more like "Cheeck Heeks." He also said it was for his kid, but I saw right through that. He made small talk by telling me that the really good ones don't even make it to the shelf, they get grabbed by employees, who make extra scratch selling rarities on the secondary market. I knew this happened, though I didn't know what a hot commodity Cars toys were and are. I declined his offer of a trade, as I pretty much had what I needed and felt sufficiently skeeved out just being near him.
Then, in line, I ran into some guys with armloads of Hot Wheels. One of them, feigning small talk, complimented my choice of Cars and asked if I needed a Hamm. This is a car version of the piggy bank character from Toy Story (don't ask -- it's complicated). I declined. My boys like the race cars, not the Carsworld spin on famous Pixar/Disney characters from prior movies.
I used to be like those guys. I tell myself I'm different now: I'm not buying for me, I'm not obsessed with getting a mint package (as the package will just get ripped open anyway). But the pursuit of Cars and, to a lesser extent, Thomas trains, stirs this addictive part of my nature that scares me a little.
Now I need to find a DJ.
No comments:
Post a Comment