I had to do something this week that made me cringe and which is against all of my principles: I had to buy a Hannah Montana Build A Bear. Shoot me in the frickin’ head now. Miley Cyrus annoys the living daylights out of me. But it’s what my niece wants for Christmas, so I sucked it up and went against everything I stand for in regards to celebrity marketing and bought it. Have you done the Build A Bear thing? It was embarrassing. The sales girl loved her job WAAAY too much (her enthusiasm was just oozing through the store like syrup) and she decided that I, an almost 40 year old woman, absolutely HAD to enjoy the entire Build a Bear “experience”. Experience? I thought you just walked in, grabbed your damn bear out of the bin, said “Stuff it please” and left. Nope. Evidently there is an entire ritual to be performed when buying a stuffed animal these days. First I had to push a pedal to fill my bear with fluffies while the sales girl encouraged me and cheered me on. You would have thought pedal pushing was some new Olympic sport the way she was whooping and hollering. Then I had to stick my hand under this air duct of floating poofy hearts and grab one to put in the bear. Okay. Kinda cute in a corny way, I guess. But then she had me hold the heart between my hands and rub it for warmth while making a wish, followed by pressing it up to my heart to send love along with the bear. Getting silly now. “Now rub it on your nose.” WTF? Keep in mind I was THE ONLY PERSON in the store except for a hot UPS guy who was watching this entire performance while he waited for Pollyanna Perkypants to finish with me. So I touched the heart ever so slightly to my nose so as not to get make-up on it and assumed we were done. Wrong. “Okay, now kiss the heart to send your love.” Didn’t I already place this now annoying little heart to my chest to send the love? Now I’m supposed to KISS it, too? I’m not exactly Mother Teresa. I don’t have a whole lot of love to spare. By this point the UPS dude was glaring at me like “I don’t get paid to stand around watching middle aged women make out with stuffed trinkets, so let’s bust a nut and get on with this little display, shall we?” So I gave the heart a little peck and stuffed it into the bear’s ass where it will remain for eternity, never to be seen again. The sales girl was elated. I was mortified. My niece better put this damn bear in a curio cabinet and bow to it in all it’s glory every night before bed. I’m serious.
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