July 1999 feature by Dana J. Robinson |
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The Hard Stuff
"Bring me back something. Make sure it's not tacky!"
She brought me back a battery-operated, dancing hula doll that has the option of
dashboard mounting. Her head had fallen off and was resting on her arm in her box when
I got her. But she wasn't alone.
I also was fortunate enough to get a souvenir key chain. It's one of those from-the-side
profiles of a woman on her knees and a man sort of squatting behind her.
"Look," Lyn explained, taking the key chain from me to show me how it worked,
"they're doing it."
They certainly were. Hawaiian style, apparently.
This was not the first time I've been the recipient of utter souvenir crap. I'm certain it won't
be the last. I'm less sure about the reasons behind these silly gestures of post-vacation
appreciation.
Ultimately, I blame most of these incidents on the manufacturers. Do these people know
no limits when it comes to what should and should not be made into key chains? I'm sure
they'll plaster just about anything on the side of a coffee mug or a hand-held paper
accordian-style fan. Or a decorative mirror encased in cardboard presented as a wall-
hanging. In the haste and glory that is mass-consumerism, my idiot friends buy them
all - and give them to me.
I think I am the lone receiver and keeper of such junk. I am guilted into displaying the
generosity of my friends in my apartment. Even now, as I stare out the window recalling
all the gifts of yesteryear, my gaze is interrupted by the bright colors of the hula girl's lei
and bikini top. Just exactly what is the window of time a person has before trashing
unwanted gifts?
I've recently adopted the 2 year rule. Afterall, I don't usually even keep friends that
long, so why should I keep their junk? I'm sure the two
year allowance is too generous. Proof of this theory can be found in any second hand store.
People actually try to
pawn off their precious memories to buyers at 25 cents a pop! (Unless you are truly
pathetic and actually buy used-up keepsakes and try to pawn them off on your friends as
your own. Shame on you.)
As a result of all of this, I am the souvenir queen.
I went to Belgium. I brought back chocolate for everyone.
Who wouldn't love that, you might ask? My mom, that's who. And all my friends. They
complained about not having anything to show for my extensive Belgian travels as they
crammed the gourmet chocolates down their greedy little throats. Their stomachs and
hips and thighs were practically expanding on contact.
As I watched them devour the European souvenirs in their fat consumerist way, I thought
happily, "Moments on the lips, years on the hips."
It's all about retribution, really.
in the junk drawer
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