Time Turns Elastic

For Christmas this year, HRH received what’s known as a ‘Rainbow Loom’. Basically, it’s a plastic loom upon which you can make elastic bracelets, anklets, etc., from billions of tiny multi-colored elastics.  Oh joy.  It was the “In” toy this year so, of course, she just had to have it.  Thankfully, it was quickly lost in the ebb and flow of crap that spills out onto her bedroom floor and under her bed like another Exxon oil spill, and all was well with the world again.

Unfortunately, it was rediscovered during a recent deep exploration into the darkest recesses of her room.  Crap.  So what this means now is hours, well, minutes maybe, of endless rainbow fun for her and, me?  Well I get to look like an 80’s prostitute.

Don’t get me wrong, I love that she thinks enough of me to make me kazillions of colorful pictures and drawings and I typically keep them all.  At my work desk alone, I have about a half dozen of drawings of me as a bunny, a princess, and what have you.  Real manly stuff, right? But it makes her happy and keeping her happy makes me happy so I do the right thing and suck it up and pin them up for display.  Others, I keep stashed away in a folder for posterity.  Almost never does anything get simply thrown away, no matter how random, uninspired, or lame.  Except, lately, with the reemergence of this stupid Rainbow Loom, these drawings have now turned into neon elastic bracelets.  Oh goodie.

I still love getting these little gifts – don’t get me wrong – and I love that she’s thinking of me n’ all, but what am I supposed to do with these freakin’ things?

I mean, seriously, look at these things:


How cool would I be wearing these?

First off, despite their elasticity, none of them actually fit me.  They’re so tight I’d probably loose fingers if I ever put them on.  Thank God too as I’d look like a reject from some 80’s sitcom.  Secondly, since you can’t hang them per se, they’re now everywhere.  On my desk, on the gear shift in the car, dandling from my key chain and, yet, they just keep coming.  Similarly, our floor is now absolutely littered with the damnable things.  Each morning, I practically have to peel them off the soles of my feet.  If these elastics were currency, I’d be Bill-fn’-Gates!

So what do I do?  Do I hang on to these bracelets too or what?  Am I likely to one day pull them out from my ‘Man Trunk’ and reminisce over them fondly as I might do with her pictures at some point?  I’m thinking not.  The worst case, is that someone’s going to find these gaudy things while going through my stuff after I’ve shuffled off this mortal coil and think that I was a closet transvestite.

God help me.

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1 Comment

  1. Tanis Gilbert

     /  March 28, 2014

    Terry – go on You Tube and search for the video lesson on pencil doohickeys – those things near the point that “protect” your finger. Slightly more challenging and definitely more masculine!


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