New Year, New Blog

The New Year is here (11 days ago) and that can only mean one thing (for this single blog who has nothing else to think about but itself): what to write about in 2018.

My ideas are beginning to run dry after having started this blog 5 years ago. I’ve already covered my former life as a barista, my thoughts on Valentine’s Day, why I think Donald Trump was the right person to take office, the looming demise of my CR-V, the time I almost got dine-and-dashed, and the rigorous plight of my vegetarianism.

But I’ve come up with a list of potential posts, which I’d like to share.

I will a accept feedback and votes, and shortly will open the polls for my mom and the three other people who read this.


  • What the World Is Going to Be Like at the Age of 30
  • Should I Grow a Mustache for Movember?FullSizeRender
  • What It’s Like to Be a Former Blonde
  • Why Can’t I Ever Spell “Triscuit” Correctly the First Time?
  • Texas Pete vs. Cholula (seriously, I can’t decide)
  • Poached vs. Soft-boiled (seriously, I can’t decide)
  • Crunchy vs. Smooth (seriously…)
  • Shop at Walmart vs. Starve to Death (no, but seriously)
  • “I Used to Want a Pony When I Was a Kid, but Now I Don’t at All!” Subtitled: Life Is so Crazy Sometimes
  • The Last 25 Things I Googled
  • The Last 25 Things I Bought on Amazon
  • What It’s Like to Be My Roommate
  • “Do I Need to Start Thinking About Retirement?” Subtitled: Why Did I Say That Stupid Thing to My Crush in College, and Other Things That Keep Me up at Night
  • What Earth Day Means to Me (please vote for this one, because I already wrote it in sixth grade so it would save me a lot of time)photo 3
  • Famous People I’ve Met, Like Tig Notaro and the Green Power Ranger
  • Famous People Who Signed My Cast, Like Tig Notaro and the Green Power Ranger
  • Movies I’ve Watched Just to Feel Smarter
  • “The Weird Noise My Car Is Making.” Subtitled: I Know I Should Just Get Another One, Shut Up
  • Things on My “Before 30” Bucket List That I Definitely Didn’t Accomplish
  • “Bananagrams.” Subtitled: Other Useless Things I’m Pretty Good At
  • The Time in Amsterdam When I Went to Bed at 5:30 p.m.
  • Hangover Cures When You Don’t Eat Bacon: A Guide for Vegetarians
  • Do I Really Ever Need to Learn How to Use a Lawnmower?
  • Movies I’ve Never Seen That Everyone Says “You’ve Never Seen It?!” When I Tell Them I’ve Never Seen It
  • The Time I Went to the Wendy Williams Show
  • “Pillow Drool.” Subtitled: And Other Things You Probably Don’t Want to Know About Me
  • The Time I Thought I Could Get Rid of My Bangs By Just Cutting The Hair Off at the Root
  • The Time I Ate 53 Papa John’s Pepperoncinis in an Hour Because of a Dare
  • The Three Wishes I Would Make If a Genie Came Out of a Lamp
  • Things I Use Way Past Their Expiration Date
  • Things I Eat Way Past Their Expiration Date
  • “The Time I Wrote a Fake Article About South of the Border and It Went Viral” Subtitled: We Used to Vacation There When I Was a Kidtrump-team-starts-wall-at-south-of-the-border
  • Why I Think Donald Trump Might Have Alzheimer’s
  • Why I Hate Shopping Villages
  • 30 Fun Facts! Including How I Used to Eat Snow Cones Without the Syrup!
  • Lukewarm Coffee Is Always Better Than Hot Coffee
  • The Time I Cried at Cracker Barrel
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My New Year’s Resolutions

I love the New Year. It’s the opportunity for a fresh start, a new year, a turned-over leaf. It’s a way to eliminate bad habits and create good ones.

As an unmarried, childless twenty-something, I’ve developed my fair share of bad habits – generally formed out of laziness, apathy, or constantly being in a rush. But I’m determined that 2018 will be the year of an improved lifestyle, better habits, and pouring milk into a glass rather than drinking it out of the carton.

That’s why I created my list of New Year’s resolutions. Wish me luck.

  • Eat meals sitting down like a normal person instead of standing over my kitchen counter

This goes back to the whole “laziness” thing. After preparing something to eat, why can’t I just travel the three-foot distance from the counter to the chair? These are the unexplainable questions nobody knows the answer to.

  • Stop biting my cuticles

This has been on my New Year’s resolution list since 2004. 2018 could be the year!

  • Watch something on TV besides Shark Tank

Or Undercover Boss.

  • Learn how to take a selfie

You would think it wouldn’t be that hard.

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  • Buy birthday cards ahead of time rather than on my way to the actual birthday party

For some reason, it never occurs to me to get the card until 15 minutes before the event starts. Note: this resolution also counts for, but is not limited to, occasions such as Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, anniversaries, and baby showers.

  • Get the driver’s side door of my car repaired so that it finally opens from the inside

It does get a little embarrassing as people watch me roll down my window and open the door using the outside handle, or see me crawl across the entire front seat to get out of the passenger’s side, like a bored child at a restaurant.

  • Fill up the Brita pitcher when it gets empty, dammit

Sometimes I think subconsciously, I’m hoping that my Brita pitcher will just learn to do this on its own. I’m beginning to believe that that’s just wishful thinking.

  • Stop putting Texas Pete hot sauce on almost everything I eat

I think this one is pretty self-explanatory.

  • Learn how to make Minute Rice without ruining it

It’s hard though, you guys.

  • Floss

So I can stop lying to my dentist.

  • Use utensils to eat leftovers

Rather than with my hands, on the couch, in sweatpants

  • Pay attention to the time when I check my phone for…the time

Oh I got a message! Oh I forgot to text my mom back! Oh I need to set my alarm for tomorrow! Oh I wonder if my photo on Instagram got any comments! Oh I need to get back to what I was doing!

Wait, what time did my phone, which I’ve been staring at for half an hour, say?

  • A little less “Taco Tuesday”

And maybe a little more “Salad Sunday.”

  • Grow out my nails to a natural length rather than cutting off the white parts every five days

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  • Take the “Are you still there?” message from Netflix as an indication that it’s time to stop watching TV

And then maybe go read a book, or like, actually leave my apartment.

  • Remove my clothes from the dryer when they’re done, clean up after myself in the kitchen, and take out the trash once in awhile

Okay, so I made some New Year’s resolutions for my roommate too.

 

Don’t Rent to Us

Kathleen and I have lived together for almost five years. We get along really well, we cohabitate peacefully, and we’ve remained close friends regardless of any typical roommate-related disagreements that may have come up.

But we’re cursed.

When we first moved in together, we found a nice spot in the Fan. As with many Fan apartments, this one too was inundated with mice, mold, leaks, broken appliances, broken locks, drafty windows and warped doors. But we just chalked all that stuff up to the drawbacks of an old building as we laughed and hugged and told each other how much we liked living together.

And then we got the hell out of there before the roof collapsed in on us.

From there, we moved to an apartment building in Shockoe Bottom. You know, something more stable and up-to-date with more credibility and fewer rodents.

But somehow our complications still followed us.

And I’m not talking about minor concerns like an occasional light bulb replacement. I mean, major issues.

THE GARBAGE DISPOSAL

Our first order of business when we moved in: have a broken garbage disposal. Now, we know the rules of owning a disposal and we didn’t put anything suspicious in it. If that’s what you’re thinking.

It just kept breaking on its own. We’d have to plunge out its contents and wash them back down, then make a service request with the building maintenance crew. They’d fix it, and it would be fine for a little while, and then it would break again.

Finally they gave in, and installed a brand new disposal. It worked beautifully and we lived happily ever after.

“Whew, glad that’s been resolved and we can move on with our lives without having to think about any other household disturbances,” we both thought, like idiots.

THE PANTRY DOOR

Our pantry door was one of those stupid sliding/folding doors that was a horrible off-white color and made a nails-on-a-chalkboard scraping noise whenever anyone opened it. And as if all that stuff wasn’t bad enough, it would frequently pop off the door frame and flap freely into the kitchen like a flag in the wind.

After many maintenance calls, we finally figured out that we could just pop it back in ourselves.

Okay…that one was partially our fault.

THE TIME WE ALMOST DIDN’T GO TO EUROPE BECAUSE OUR KITCHEN FLOODED WITH WHITE PAINT WATER AS WE WERE PACKING TO LEAVE

Then there was the time we almost didn’t go to Europe because our kitchen flooded with white paint water as we were packing to leave.

While we sat on the floor of our dining room making the last minute additions and checks, we heard a steady drip of water coming from the kitchen. We got up to find our entire sink filled with this chalk-colored liquid, brimming over and spilling onto the floor in a manner as if it had no intention of stopping.

I assume it got resolved, though, because by the time we came home two months later, it didn’t do that anymore.

THE LAUNDRY ROOM

If you missed this piece about how we got kicked out of our last apartment, here’s your chance to read it. To summarize (but then go read it because it’s an absolute knee-slapper!): Our laundry room flooded approximately once a week for over a year. No matter what the maintenance crew did and no matter how many times they came to do it, the laundry room continued its debauchery. It led to mold, cracked floor tiles, warped floorboards, and many wet kitchen mats.

And don’t even get me started on the resulting cockroaches, as I might curl up into a ball of hyperventilation on my kitchen counter again.

In the end, we never saw this one the whole way through because our landlords politely moved us to a new unit so that they could fix the issue once and for all.


So, great! We’ve moved out of the cursed apartment and into a fresh start.

Or so we thought.

But just like when we moved out of the apartment in the Fan, our issues continued to follow us. But this time the issues graduated from minor annoyances to full-on malfunctioning appliances.


THE REFRIGERATOR(S)

The first week in our new apartment, I went to grab something from the refrigerator before leaving for work. I noticed it was a little…unchilled. I touched another thing. Unchilled. Another thing. Unchilled.

What the…?

Unbeknownst to us, our entire refrigerator had shut down in the middle of the night amidst our slumber. So we set aside the food items that were salvageable, and broodingly threw away the rest. We made a less-than-friendly call to our management office, who, to their credit, took care of the issue promptly. We had a new refrigerator by the next day.

I won’t go into the tedious details of the rest of the fiasco. But I’ll just tell you that this exact circumstance happened two more times. TWO MORE TIMES.

Refrigerator breaks. We have to throw away our perishables. We call our landlords. They provide a new refrigerator. Repeat.

Finally, they wised up and realized that we couldn’t be trusted with just any old, used refrigerator. We needed a brand new one.

And so that’s what we got.

THE OVEN

We started to notice that the front right burner wasn’t warming up very quickly, or getting as hot as the others. Eventually we noticed that it barely worked at all. And then we noticed that it was cold metal coils no matter how high the dial was turned.

So we informed our landlords.

I guess at this point they knew they just needed to cut to the chase when it came to us, because shortly thereafter, we came home and had an entire, brand new oven.

Perhaps that was a bit extreme. To be honest, I didn’t think one non-working burner was that big of a deal. But who can say no to a never-before-used flat top stove?

AND NOW…THE DISHWASHER

There’s not really a good story to this. I guess I could try to spin it in an interesting manner, but you get the idea at this point: after awhile, we began to observe that the appliance in question wasn’t working as well as it should have been. Then eventually it stopped working altogether.

And yesterday, we got word that we’re getting a brand new one.


Just as a disclaimer: Before you start thinking that it’s the quality of the apartment building itself and not us that’s cursed (because, yes, we thought this too), we became aware that none of our neighbors have had as many home-related problems as we’ve had. But at least our curse comes with new stuff.


So, to the River Lofts management team and leasing office: I’m sorry you ever decided to rent to us, and I know you’re sorry too. But if you wouldn’t mind hurrying it up with that dishwasher already, that would be great. I’m just really tired of hand-washing everything, okay?

Love,

Rachel and Kathleen

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Survival Diary: My Day Without a Phone

This morning, I accidentally left my phone at my boyfriend’s apartment. I realized this after I’d already gotten home, and he had left for the day. By then, it was too late. There was no retrieving it until his return.

This is the true, firsthand account of my day without a cell phone.


It is official: you are gone. I have just come upon this realization, and my devastation is unbearable. We will likely be reunited this evening, but that seems eons from now. iPhone, you are my folly, my support, my stability, my joy, my reason for getting out of bed each morning. I just don’t know how I’m going to make it through the day without you.

But I must proceed onward.

Hour 1 without my iPhone: Though I have no appetite, I managed to throw together a light dish for breakfast. And though, due to my grief, I put less effort into my meal as I normally would, it still came out looking positively exquisite. The eggs were cooked perfectly, two shiny yellow yolks surrounded by a thick white ring. A side of avocado toast, a dash of pepper, and a spritz of Sriracha sauce made my plate an absolute masterpiece. As I prepared to share my chef-d’oeuvre with the rest of the world through a Clarendon-filtered Instagram photo, I remembered that this would be impossible.

Your absence is made known in everything I do. I cannot escape reminders of your disappearance.

Hour 2: iPhone, it was amazing. I got in the shower and managed to erase the memory of your loss from my mind for a blissful ten minutes. Gone were my concerns over being apart from you, replaced with the steady trickle of warm water and soapy steam.

But immediately once I turned the water off, and heard no traces of your sweet sounds – a riveting Spotify playlist, an educational NPR podcast, or the smooth reading of an audiobook, for instance – all of my memories of you came rushing back, and the grief seemed to have doubled. Will I ever make it through the agony?

Hour 2.5: I got ready for my day in silence, missing your custom sounds to distract me from my thoughts. I took up humming briefly, as I thought I may die from the quiet infiltrating the air. But it simply wasn’t the same; the humming merely served as a reminder of my grim reality.

Oh, what melodies would I be playing from your tiny, delicate speakers right now, iPhone?

Hour 3: I managed to make it out of the house; I wasn’t sure if I would be able to today, without your comforting existence in my back pocket. But I had made previous plans with a dear friend, so onward I went. We agreed to meet in front of a local shop, but I suddenly fretted over these arrangements. What would I do if she didn’t arrive on time? What if I were to break down along the journey? What if there was a miscommunication in regards to the meeting destination? What if I get lost?

All of these fears and more fluttered around my head, fears that would normally be assuaged by your reassuring presence. Oh, iPhone, might it be a mistake to journey out into the world without you?

Hour 4: iPhone, good news. I made it to my destination without the slightest hint of an obstacle. Oh now, that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss your melodies, caressing my ears, throughout the expedition. The local radio’s Top 40 hits simply couldn’t compare, but alas, I had to settle.

My dear friend and I also managed to connect without difficulty, but the minute we sat down, my thoughts of you came flooding back. I couldn’t show my latest photos to her. I couldn’t share my location with all of my social media followers. I couldn’t reach out to my other companions when the conversation lulled, or when she momentarily excused herself.

We had a lovely afternoon of catching up, but the void in my heart was still too much to bear.

Hour 5: I must cast aside my humbleness for a moment, to share about the rare cooperation of my hair, and the astounding outfit coordination that I achieved today. Normally, iPhone, I would have used you to communicate these achievements with my friends and followers on every means of social media through a well-angled self-photograph. But just as with my breakfast, everyone will simply have to rely on their imaginations to presume what the image would look like.

My suspicions that you are irreplaceable are constantly confirmed. iPhone, our reunion cannot come soon enough.

Hour 6: I began reading a book. It’s hard to explain what exactly a book is, but it’s something that I used to imbibe in before I met you. Once you came into my life, however, I have never had any reason to pick it up again.

My efforts to read this book failed, however. I quickly became bored with all of the empty words, none of which were accompanied by an image in which I could comment on, or a hashtag in which I could click on to connect with others.

iPhone, forgive me for never realizing before just how much joy and pleasure you provided me throughout each day. I will never take your amusement for granted again.

Hour 6.5: This will be my last entry. I just cannot do it any longer. This time without you, iPhone, has just been much more difficult than I imagined. I have relinquished myself to a corner of the room, unable to find anything else to do with my mind without your limitless screen of possibilities in the palm of my hand.

iPhone, please know how much enjoyment you gave me throughout our years together, and how much simpler you made my life. I apologize for my feeble attitude, but I simply cannot go on any longer.

Hour 7: Is that…? Could it be…? A knock on the door…? Are my ears just hearing what they wish for…? Is this what dying feels like…? Or is that…? Someone at the door…? Here to return you to me…? Let me just…unfurl myself…retreat from the corner…get to the door…open it…and…YES! IT IS YOU! YOU HAVE RETURNED FROM YOUR CONFINEMENT AND INTO MY FINGERTIPS! OH, HOW I HAVE MISSED YOU! I THOUGHT FOR CERTAIN I WOULD NEVER…

16 texts, five Facebook messages, three Snaps, and a voicemail from my roommate?

Ok g2g bye

Costumes of Halloween Past

Around Christmas, many people enjoy sitting around with their families, fondly reminiscing about joyful Christmas memories.

Similarly, I do the same thing on Halloween. I enjoy sitting around with my family (I mean, by myself), fondly reminiscing about joyful Halloween costumes.

And I thought this year, I would share.


2006: My first college Halloween. My roommate Alyssa and I decided to dress up as rock stars. Because college was teaching us to think outside the box. I, on the right, was Ashlee Simpson (the brunette, post-nose job version, of course). I can’t remember (or tell) who Alyssa was. I also can’t remember why we were posing with a poster of Pirates of the Caribbean.

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2007: I said farewell to my female emo pop star days, and hello to “Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.” At this point in my life, my obsession with The Office was palpable, so it just seemed obvious to dress up as one of the characters. Especially the one that looked exactly like me.

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2008: This was the year after Juno came out and, like any teenage/early-20’s girl, I was a huge fan. So much that I simply had to figure out how to make it look like my eggo was preggo and walk around like a hormonal, sarcastic 16-year-old. Honest to blog it wasn’t so hard.

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2010: My job at the local Australian steakhouse (Outback) permitted us to dress up on Halloween. While most of the other female servers used this opportunity to show off what they normally had to cover with frumpy uniforms (a few girls even got sent home to change, as I recall) I used this opportunity to show off my love for kid game shows from the ’90s.

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2011: My first and only Halloween living in Australia. Generally, I try to get pretty creative with my Halloween costumes. But as you can see, this year I made an exception. Perhaps I was afraid no one would get my pop culture references. Perhaps I didn’t know what was culturally normal. Perhaps I was just lazy. But for this costume, I found a cheap pair of cat ears and paired them with every piece of black clothing I had brought with me. It appears that everyone else had the same mind set. Better luck next time.

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2012: It’s a-me! (Sorry). My BFF and I wanted to dress up in complementary costumes this year, so naturally we landed on Mario and Peach. What I learned: World of Mirth has great clip-on mustaches, and overalls are great for concealing a flask.

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2014: This was the year of my gloriously broken foot. And since I couldn’t remove the boot from my costume, I decided to let it influence my costume instead. Which is how I ended up as Tiny Tim. Disclosure: I am wearing pants.

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2016: Due to a haircut a few months prior, which came out very mom-esque, I could only think of one way to spend my Halloween last year: in a turtleneck/cardigan combo passing out freshly baked cookies while making sure everyone made it home safely.

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And let’s not forget this year, where I simply couldn’t decide which homemade costume to use.


And now: the opening of the Trick-or-Treat files.

1992: Was I a princess? Was I a ghost? Was I a bride? Did my parents just use Halloween as an excuse to put me in the dressy clothes that I never wore otherwise and would soon outgrow? Whatever I was, I’m sure I was unhappy about not looking as cool as my brother the skeleton, and my other brother the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Also you can tell I was totally cheating at that game.

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1993: No, not a cow. I was obviously dressed up as Perdita from 101 Dalmatians. And too busy thinking about something else (candy) to notice there was a picture being taken.

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1994: If you really think about it, those Lion King costumes are pretty dumb. The character’s mouth was designed to fit over the wearers head, making it appear that the lion cub is eating the child. But you can tell from my expression that I thought I looked cool as hell. Because frankly, I did.

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1995: If you’re here to make fun of my makeup, you can keep those comments to yourself and move along. I killed it this year with my costume, tiara and all. I don’t remember much about this Halloween, but I do remember staring at myself in the mirror for a long time. I was just so darn shiny.

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“Fall Is”: A Poem by Rachel Marsh

Fall Is…

Fall is natural beautyFall

Fall is red trees.

Fall is bon fires.

Fall is s’mores.

Fall is roasted marshmallows.

Fall is mountains.

Fall is Sunday afternoon football with friends!

Fall is acorns.

Fall is pumpkin patches.

Fall is corn mazes.

Fall is cozy evenings at home.

Fall is trendy boots and flannel.

Fall is chili.

Fall is going to Starbucks with a good book.

Fall is pumpkin lattes.

Fall is sleeping with the windows open.

Fall is camping.

Fall is hiking.

Fall is chattering teeth.

Fall is warm hot chocolate.

Fall is hoodies.

Fall is toasty sweaters!

Fall is romantic chilly walks.

Fall is hot cinnamon apple cider.

Fall is warm socks.

Fall is snuggling.

Fall is crunchy leaves.

Fall is pink cheeks.

Fall is holiday anticipation.

Fall is fireplaces.

Fall is red wine.

Fall is a second glass of red wine.

Fall is screw it, the whole bottle of red wine.

Fall is accidentally passing out on the couch.

Fall is miserable hangovers from all that damn red wine.

Fall is all of the flowers dying.

Fall is mice coming into your house.

Fall is not liking camping, actually.

Fall is so many frickin’ leaves to rake.

Fall is being too old to jump in the pile of leaves.

Fall is burning the crap out of your tongue on hot chocolate.

Fall is not giving a shit about football.

Fall is your coworkers not being able to discuss anything except football.

Fall is one step before winter.

Fall is a great reminder that you’re still single.

Fall is the onset of Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Fall is wondering why all of the malls have started decorating for Christmas already.

Fall is trying to get that musty storage smell out of your winter clothes.

Fall is remembering how annoying scarves are around your neck.

Fall is fake holidays that we celebrate anyway, like “Black Friday,” or “Columbus Day.”

Fall is pumpkin spice-sponsored cavities.

Fall is what the hell am I going to be for Halloween this year?

Fall is stupid kids ruining your evening with their trick-or-treating.

Fall is the looming family-infiltrated holidays ahead.

Fall is getting fat from the holiday carbs.

Fall is remembering how much you hate pumpkin beer.

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R.I.P. Toys-R-Us

You may have heard the news. No, they’re not going out of business yet. But if you’ve heard the updates on the news, you know the end of Toys-R-Us will soon be upon us.

Because let’s be honest, if a kids aren’t getting their toys off of Amazon these days, they’re at the most going to go to Walmart or Target. They wouldn’t even recognize Geoffrey (geoffrey-the-giraffe-toysrus-5.42) if he had an armload of iPads shaped like fidget spinners.

But back in my day, Amazon was a river I misspelled on my geography tests and the idea of getting a toy from Walmart was beneath me. Toys-R-Us was a dream destination, and to say that I have extremely fond memories of it is a drastic understatement.

For example, I absolutely must start with the tale of the amazing

Child-Sized Battery-Powered Cars

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’re either in your late 40’s, or you were one of those kids that watched PBS for fun. Toys-R-Us had a display of these cars that were…well, child-sized and battery-powered. They would go as fast as – what I thought at the time was at least the equivalent of a suburban speed limit – but what really was around 2.5 mph.

We never got one, no matter HOW many times we asked. But the second we walked into the store, my brothers and I would trample kids over and shove aside shopping carts just to get to the car section. Then when we had to leave, we would beg and plead and try to extend our time for as long as possible.

And as we were getting dragged out by our feet, we told our parents how lucky they were that they got their own car to drive whenever they wanted.

My second story is going to be an obvious one, because what “childhood memory of Toys-R-Us” blog post would be complete without a narrative about

Christmas Shopping

Certainly not this one.

Every year, a few weeks following up to Christmas, my dad would load me and my brothers up in the car for our sibling Christmas shopping trip. The sibling Christmas shopping trip would go like this:

  • We’d each go to our respective sections (me: the girl section for anything Polly Pocket or Beanie Baby, them: the boy section for dumb boy stuff).
  • We would then decide on a variety of toys suitable to open on the big day.
  • Our dad would come to our section, take notes on our selection, and find the other siblings to let them know.
  • The other siblings would then pick out what toy they wanted to give as a gift.
  • Then we’d all go do what we had wanted to since we arrived (the car section), and drive around until it was time to leave.

My dad, of course, paid for all of the gifts we gave to each other. Which is perhaps what I miss most about this scenario.

The next story is one of hope and inspiration. It’s a story about

The Time My Dad Almost Got a Job at Toys-R-Us

One evening, when I was in third grade, my dad came home after work and told us that his company had gotten bought out. That meant that everyone there was going to lose their job, including him. Not realizing the implications of a job loss (poverty, homelessness, us having to use our own allowance to buy Christmas presents), I deemed the announcement as fantastic news.

Now he could finally be an employee at Toys-R-Us like I had always dreamed.

I told him the good news, eager for this whole “job loss” to be behind us and the free toys to start flowing.

He appreciated my advice, but unfortunately never got around to picking up an application. Shortly after the company buy-out, he found another job at a nearby insurance company.

But instead of unlimited toys, he does my taxes, which I suppose worked out in the end.

So, in unrelated news, I don’t know how to do sidebars on this blog. But if I did, this story (well, less of a story and more of a “thank you, Toys-R-Us”) would be a

Sidebar

When I was an au pair in Australia, I had to find ways every day to entertain a three-year-old. When I ran out of ideas, or grew sick of feeding those scary ass ducks, we would go to Toys-R-Us. I could sit on my phone and text all of my cool Australian friends, while she would look at and touch all of the dolls and stuffed animals (that she didn’t know that were supposed to come out of the box). Thank you, Toys-R-Us. So

In Conclusion

Toys-R-Us, this one goes out to you. I’m eternally disappointed that one day soon (just being realistic here) you’ll be shutting your doors forever. I know I don’t frequent your establishment very often (well, since 1998), but it’s a shame all of my children that I don’t want to have will only see toy shopping through the screen of a computer and never know the joy of a Toys-R-Us trip.

Thank you for all of the memories.

And more importantly, the stuff.

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