toy enthusiast or schizophrenic...you decide...
John and I rented the new Aladdin DVD yesterday.
We watched it after It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, of course. It feels shorter every year. In fact, I'm glad they still show this one on TV (unlike the Garfield Halloween special, which was my favorite, even though I was never much of a Garfield fan overall) not because it's being "passed on" or anything, but because if I bought it and watched it without commercials it would only last, like, fifteen minutes. Anyway, it made me a little misty...like Johnny Mathis fallin' in love.
And then we watched Aladdin. When it first came out (in 1992...twelve years ago...jeez...) my family went to see it in the theater in Waverly on my birthday. And much like Brother Bear and Handy Smurf before him, I had a little crush on Aladdin. (I also had a crush on Barry Manilow for about ten minutes when I was four.) So there was an element of watching it last night that was a little like hanging out with an ex-boyfriend. Or maybe a friend I'd grown away from. It wore off pretty fast though.
And then I was left sitting there, missing toys I haven't touched in ages... Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me when I feel like I would just feel better if a could brush a doll's hair. It's like those guys who play golf to let off steam. Or drive around a track in a stripped-down BMW at break-neck speeds. Only I don't know how to play golf. And I'd probably drive into the track's grandstands or a row of DeLoreans or something.
I remember when my sister would be in school when I was still too young, I would go into her room and look at her My Child doll resting in our doll crib. She had silky black hair and a dress with little pink and yellow flowers. I wanted to touch her so bad I could taste it. But I wasn't supposed to play with her unless Amy said I could.
I had great Aladdin toys. I had action figures. I had Barbie dolls. I had it all. And now they're in a box. Next to other boxes. Filling up a room that isn't really mine anymore. In a house where I don't live now. It's enough to make a girl never want to watch Toy Story 2 again...and have to hear Jessie's song about the little girl that grew up and stopped loving her. Not that that's exactly what happened in this particular case. Because clearly. I'm way more into toys than your average grown-up. But still.
Incidentally, I got a My Child doll for my fifth birthday. She had long blond hair and yellow and white striped overalls. I named her Megan. That year, we went to the Opryland Hotel for my birthday to see the Christmas lights that are always still up on my birthday.
Check out these links...
Garfield Holiday DVD
Fiona's My Child Collection
We watched it after It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, of course. It feels shorter every year. In fact, I'm glad they still show this one on TV (unlike the Garfield Halloween special, which was my favorite, even though I was never much of a Garfield fan overall) not because it's being "passed on" or anything, but because if I bought it and watched it without commercials it would only last, like, fifteen minutes. Anyway, it made me a little misty...like Johnny Mathis fallin' in love.
And then we watched Aladdin. When it first came out (in 1992...twelve years ago...jeez...) my family went to see it in the theater in Waverly on my birthday. And much like Brother Bear and Handy Smurf before him, I had a little crush on Aladdin. (I also had a crush on Barry Manilow for about ten minutes when I was four.) So there was an element of watching it last night that was a little like hanging out with an ex-boyfriend. Or maybe a friend I'd grown away from. It wore off pretty fast though.
And then I was left sitting there, missing toys I haven't touched in ages... Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me when I feel like I would just feel better if a could brush a doll's hair. It's like those guys who play golf to let off steam. Or drive around a track in a stripped-down BMW at break-neck speeds. Only I don't know how to play golf. And I'd probably drive into the track's grandstands or a row of DeLoreans or something.
I remember when my sister would be in school when I was still too young, I would go into her room and look at her My Child doll resting in our doll crib. She had silky black hair and a dress with little pink and yellow flowers. I wanted to touch her so bad I could taste it. But I wasn't supposed to play with her unless Amy said I could.
I had great Aladdin toys. I had action figures. I had Barbie dolls. I had it all. And now they're in a box. Next to other boxes. Filling up a room that isn't really mine anymore. In a house where I don't live now. It's enough to make a girl never want to watch Toy Story 2 again...and have to hear Jessie's song about the little girl that grew up and stopped loving her. Not that that's exactly what happened in this particular case. Because clearly. I'm way more into toys than your average grown-up. But still.
Incidentally, I got a My Child doll for my fifth birthday. She had long blond hair and yellow and white striped overalls. I named her Megan. That year, we went to the Opryland Hotel for my birthday to see the Christmas lights that are always still up on my birthday.
Check out these links...
Garfield Holiday DVD
Fiona's My Child Collection
<< Home