Ouch! #MyLastWordsWillBe
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I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help me… #MyLastWordsWillBe If you strike me down I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine. Damn–didn’t work. #MyLastWordsWillBe I wonder what this button does… #MyLastWordsWillBe At what point do collectibles and mementos turn into useless junk taking up space? This is the question I’ve been asking myself the past couple days. I’m cleaning out my closet because I feel like I have too much useless junk. Some choices are easy (old hard drives, clothes from the 90s, locks of hair from old girlfriends). But for others…it’s hard to pull the trigger. The two items that are causing me the most agony are my Super Nintendo and my Game Boy. I last used my SNES before I was married (hooked it up in my bachelor pad one night because I wanted to play “Mario 3”). As for the Game Boy…last time I used that might have been in the previous millennium–literally. Given that I hardly use these items (at best), it’s fairly obvious their absence wouldn’t be noticed (other than the open space in my closet). And yet… I can’t seem to do it. Seems to me I’d be better off selling them on eBay or giving ’em to Goodwill than keeping them here and never using them. I should let my video game systems find good homes with someone who will love them and play . . . . .
As a child of the 80s, I grew up worshiping Star Wars. Obsessions with lightsabers, Wookies, and the ability to choke someone with your mind were quite common for boys of my age (for some reason, girls didn’t like Star Wars: maybe My Little Pony was really good back then). I’m probably the perfect Star Wars age. My brothers don’t share the same obsession I do, so it’s definitely a generational thing. After all, when we were talking about a getting a cat I was the only one who wanted to name him Chewbacca. When I was a kid, Star Wars was everywhere. Besides the obvious action figures, I had lunchboxes, coloring books, audio books (in record form), Shrink-A-Doodles, Underoos, Lite-Brite–you name it, George Lucas found a way to market it with a Star Wars twist. I grew up wishing to be a Jedi and to strike my father down with a lightsaber. I played Star Wars. I slept in Star Wars sheets. I dreamt Star Wars. I even liked Princess Leia. One year for Christmas someone gave us the Star Wars movies (in VHS form). From that point forward, I watched the trilogy at least once a month. The . . . . .
Nothing says Christmas like a string of lights hung from a palm tree. #XmasInSoCal I, too, am thinking of hiring a management team to express my deep and personal thoughts for me here on Twitter. #TwoThingsThatNeverMix Bleach & ammonia. Learned that the hard way as we had to evacuate the McDonald’s I worked at in high school. My employer wants us to take a sexual harassment training course, which is good because I hope to become a better sexual harasser. |
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