Friday, June 05, 2009

Please Bear With Me

Please don’t call the Sigmund Freud Hotline after you read this….

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always maintained a childlike belief that stuffed animals are living and breathing entities.

By that I mean, I think of them as having internal organs and emotional feelings.

For instance…

I remember the day when I decided to purchase my very first GUND Teddy Bear to had to my collection. And if any of you have ever touched or held a Gund, you know what I mean when I say how wonderfully soft and cuddly they are.

Let me interject here by saying that I don’t have a HUGE teddy bear collection, nor do I concoct imaginary tea parties with lacy napkins; serving them scones with lemon curd. However, I do enjoy looking at them and occasionally cannot resist kissing them on their fuzzy little heads.

The day I bought my first Gund, was the day I realized I was perhaps a tad eccentric.

After the stupid-ass cashier in the gift shop finished ringing my sale, she proceeded to COLDLY grab my teddy bear by the feet and fling him into the shopping bag so that his head was at the bottom and his little legs were sticking out of the top.

I GASPED!

And without even thinking I looked at her and said, “For god's sake…all the blood will rush to his head and he won’t be able to BREATH in there like that.”

I immediately grabbed the bag from her and gently took the teddy bear by his feet, flipping him right-side up so that his head would be at opening of the bag.

The cashier just stared at me with a please-get-this-lunatic-out-of-the-store look on her face and said….

“Aaaaalrighty, now….thank for your purchase, Sir. NEXT IN LINE, PLEASE!”

I walked away from her; whispering to the teddy bear, “You poor little thing.”


And another for instance….

One day while I was at work, I just so happen to spot a stuffed baby tiger lying on the hard tile floor in my department. It still had the price tag on, so I knew it had probably been dropped by a shopper who was planning to purchase it from our toy department on the third floor.

The minute I saw it I ran over and picked it up like a tigress protecting one of her injured cubs.

I told one of my sales associates that I needed to leave the floor immediately so I could return the tiger to it’s family.

And the funny thing is, that while I was riding the escalator I was cradling it lovely and scratching it under it’s chin.

WTF???

Perhaps I need psychiatric intervention.

Or perhaps I’m really a teddy bear...with a little boy inside.

Have a Beary nice weekend everyone!