I have a thing about stickers.
Every so often I come into possession of some stickers, usually as a gift, and I never know what to do with them. I think that bumper stickers are obnoxious; while people are entitled to express themselves by plastering evidence of their political and religious inclinations or their sense of humor all over their car, or to use the back of their car to brag about their kids, if I am behind them in traffic, all I really want to know is that a) they can maintain a constant, reasonable speed, b) they allow adequate braking distance, and c) they are able to operate their turn signals.
Exception: once, I saw a sticker that read, “The flying hamster of doom rains coconuts upon your pitiful city.” I am thoroughly okay with that sticker.
Also, bumper stickers are really freaking terrible for the finish on the car.
That said, long ago I came up with this idea for a line of bumper stickers called MOOBS: Master Of the Obvious Bumper Stickers. Such as…
- My strident political viewpoint is better than your strident political viewpoint.
- My child is a student at a school.
- ABORTION is a controversial topic.
- JESUS is the central figure of Christianity.
- Don’t blame me, I voted for the candidate whose views most closely matched mine, and like most people, including the founding fathers, I am inclined to believe that what is good for me is good for everyone. We all view the world through the lens of our experience. It’s human nature.
- My other car is a car.
- I hate bumper stickers.
and of course…
For those of us who will not festoon our vehicles, the next three most obvious places for stickers are instrument cases, laptops, and furniture. I use a soft case for my accordion so that is out, I am way too anal retentive to put stickers on my laptop, and as for furniture, I am not thirteen. This has left me with a nifty set of Orioles stickers that have been sitting on a shelf for two years, and a set of They Might Giants stickers that have been in a drawer for longer than I can remember.
From time to time, I considered putting them on notebooks, but I didn’t want to waste them (hence, the stickers that may predate my thirties), which I know is ridiculous, because I can always get more stickers. Also, something about having a notebook covered in stickers -for class, or for work, whatever- struck me as terribly unprofessional, even when I was working in terribly unprofessional places.
Since Christmas, I have been been dwelling on the joy of impractical gifts – like stickers. In the past I have either saved impractical gifts for something special that never ends up happening (which is why I still have a bottle of wine that some one sent to me when I moved into my first apartment in 1995), or given them away. This year, I decided to use the dang body wash I would never, ever buy because sometimes lather is nice (I have a thing about smelly soaps, too. I have things about lots of things.), burn the white candles, and enjoy the gifts as they were intended. When I walked to Staples today to buy a new notebook for the start of grad school and the completion of my certificate, the plain black cover of the notebook I selected just seemed so blank, so generic, so un-befitting such a joyous time… and I was reminded of the stickers. This is a happy set of adventures unfolding, and my notebook for it should be festive, dammit. Decorated. Adorned. So, I bought the notebook, came home, and stickered myself silly.
Festooned!
I am absolutely delighted by my silly looking notebook, probably better suited to fifteen year old me than to me through most of my thirties so far, but maybe it turns out that I was right to wait for the perfect occasion to use the stickers. I had to wait for myself to grow up enough -emotionally and professionally- to just be delighted by the gifts while I have them and not worry about anything else.
A little more festooning.
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