You know that phenomenon that hit malls a few years ago? The one that causes children’s eyes to bug out of their heads, their pigtails to stick straight up and then they drop their toy cars right in front of a group of powerwalking nuns? Where they break free from your grasp and run willy-nilly, full of entitlement right up to the plate glass windows and smash their sticky jelly fingers all over the shiny surface while looking back and begging you with their eyes to please please please PLEASE open the door?
That’s right. It’s the Build-A-Bear Workshop… where your child can make their own best friend for about the cost of about 50 Happy Meals. But then you have to clothe the new best friend, and that’s going to set you back at least a couple of milkshakes, and perhaps even force you to go without your soy-double-shot-latte-with-caramel-hold-the-whip that is the only thing you look forward to after a day spent out shopping with your linoleum lizards*.
Anyway, the Build-A-Bear Workshop is what I thought of after reading Sarah S-E’s post where she described her perfect day, in which she is a stay-at-home paperie artist specializing in mail enhancement and other paperlicious pursuits. Invitations and paper crafts are not necessarily what made me think of the Workshop; that brain synapse fired once I read what happens at 2:45 p.m. in Sarah’s perfect day:
2:45 p.m. – Jen and I hang up. She’ll be over around 5, once she finishes up a few things at the barn she manages and hands over the evening chores to her cowboy boyfriend — a dead ringer for Clive Owen — who’s only too happy to take over so she can go off for an evening of repetitive, tedious fun with me. This means I’d better get busy printing out the pieces!
Specifically, my first thought was, “Oh, how I want to live in your parallel universe with my cowboy, horses and assembly skills!!!”
My second thought was, “Say… can I engineer my own cowboy?!??”
Oh yes, now this really got me thinking! I decided that rather than pick ONE man that will be the doppleganger for what my cowboy will look like, how about we take the genetic code of several men, smash it together and see what comes of it? [Enter mental image of walking into a Build-A-Man Workshop, inspired by those damn bears, bunnies and puppies.] Only instead of choosing from a large variety of furry carcasses to stuff with spun polyfibers and dress up like your favorite NBA star or Barbie doll, you sit down at a station to pick and choose from the DNA of men that make your toes tingle. MMmmmm.
Here’s my mix, in no particular order:
Damn. Do I have a “type” or what?!??! Dark hair, strong features (is it just me, or do all these men have the same nose?), athletic build (with emphasis on strong forearms and hands), nice teeth, smiles that will melt your knees and that lend them to an air of boyishness when they’re really amused. Fun, outdoorsy guys with an undertone of seriousness, can wear a pair of jeans like nobody’s business, short and often messy hair, and a bit of a 5 o’clock shadow…
Yummy.
Can I get mine express-delivered in time for my birthday???
* The term linoleum lizards is directly credited to Denise, may she survive the snotty-nose season in Maine with a measure of dignity.
You should include the part where you grab one of the flying hearts then hold it in your hands, rub it on your cheeks and on your forehead, make a wish, and give it a kiss. Although since it’s build-a-man, I guess it wouldn’t really be the heart, in which case not such a great idea to include that part so never mind!
[...] I get older, I give less and less thought towards fancying specific celebrities, but I did create a 9-person celebrity genetic scramble that I’d like to see create a cowboy for [...]