Analysis of My Third Grade Sticker Book: Part III

Welcome to the third, final, and least thrilling installment of my 3rd grade sticker book analysis.

If you missed them: Part I and Part II.

PAGE 13: Butterflies, I Heart My Very Specific Dog Breed

Not a whole lot going on here except for these dumb butterflies, some underwhelming animals and an "I Heart My Pyrenese Berghond" bumper sticker which, in English, is "I Heart My Great Pyrenees."

I, personally, did not heart the Great Pyrenees. This sticker had actually belonged to my brother, whose esoteric tastes, coupled with a weekly rotation of fleeting interests, had led him to temporarily and passionately heart this especially fluffy breed of dog. (We didn't have one.)

My brother's heart-ing for the Great Pyrenees, however, would quickly wane to heart-ing for everything Medieval. This involved stringing stuffed animals along a pole as "game," coming home from a school trip with a brand new mace*, and being really into the Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves movie (starring Kevin Costner) and, by consequence, (Everything I Do) I Do it for You by Bryan Adams.

My only theory is that as soon as Kevin Costner came along, I snagged that sticker like the vulture I was. Because 1) I was obviously desperate to fill my sticker book, and 2) I thought my brother was the coolest, and that meant that an I Heart My Very Specific Dog Breed That I Don't Even Own or Necessarily Care About bumper sticker had to be pretty cool too.

On a separate note: what to do with a shaggy dog looking away with curt disapproval... what to do?


*Remember that we were in Europe, where it's okay for 5th graders to buy lethal weapons of yore.

PAGE 14: Fuzzies

Beyond the single-minded mission of acquisition, presentation, and possession of Lisa Frank, 3rd grade sticker-collecting also involved trading.

It was a cut-throat marketplace governed by one's skillz and the intricate hierarchy of stickers themselves, the latter a system dictated not by any rules but simply the feckless whims of little girl fancy (and for the record, little girls are jerks).

While Lisa Frank, for example, may have been at or near the top of the sticker worth totem pole, there were other contenders too, most of which--like googly eyes, "puffies" and holograms--I didn't have. Once more, the inferiority of my collection was well established. But I did have a few "Fuzzies," a highly-coveted novelty that tapped into the purest, most universal essence of a seven year old heart, the one invariably captive to all things soft and fluffy.

You didn't have to be a girlie girl. I personally hated Barbies and, whenever forced to play house, tried best to stay out of the picture by being the family dog or a friendly mute. But see this lame little guinea pig?

Even that was hot shit for me too.

PAGE 15: Scratch'n'Sniff + Totally Serious Animals

This dragon is grape-scented. I wonder at what point the makers of all things scratch-and-sniffable were like, "Fuck it. Let's just make some dragons mesmerized by smoking marshmallows, and let's make them smell like grapes."

Teen Idol.

Not impressed/About to cry/Just ripped one and hoping no one notices.

PAGE 16: Totally Serious Animals cont., Questionable Cartoon Identities

Here we have:

1) Holy shit! Ozark big-eared bat! X-TREME!


But actually, in real life, these are really small and really cute. They're one of my favorites. If I wasn't against trying to domesticate wild animals, I'd kinda want one as a pet. That way if anybody started messing with me I'd just whip out my hands all Ken/Ryu Streetfighter II* HADOOKEN! and shoot out one of those.

*["Street Fighter II is a video game where two characters have an explosive brawl in a scenic international setting." (Susan Orlean, "The American Male at Age Ten." )]


2) The Great Commercialization of Snoopy

I have a feeling that this particular design probably wouldn't get approved today.


And:
I know it's really exciting to be eating pizza and drinking mugs of root beer the size of your torso, but energetically dancing with pizza and mugs of root beer the size of your torso probably isn't the best idea. Also, not entirely sure if small birds should be eating pepperoni. But then again, I've seen squirrels in Brooklyn eating chicken wings so, carry on, carry on.


3) Speedy G

Huh? I don't remember this guy being a figure skater.

Also, I was totally unaware that he had a cousin named Slowpoke Rodriguez. Who is probably not so much slow as he is so much drunk. As well as a really shitty tattoo.

PAGE 17: Christmas, Avian Friends, Misguided Children

Little children should not:


Be recognized war heroes:

Or awkwardly feign provincialism:


They should be more like this guy:

PAGE 18: Dear Garfield

Dear Garfield,

1)
This is no way to hold a slice. But whatever you do, don't ask Snoopy to show you. He knows nothing. He'll only dance and wave around his slice and spill root beer all over you.

2)
I'm not convinced you would play basketball, because you are famous only for being an obese, lazy, self-centered dick with a propensity for physically and emotionally abusing your peers, but okay, sure, you play basketball too.


3)

Please stop stealing from my collection of Fun Yet Potentially Dangerous Jumbo Things!




(You still haven't returned my Let's Get Meta! Mega Pencil or infant-sized Christmas decor!)


4)
Unless what you are holding is a University of Phoenix Online Associate of Arts in General Studies degree, all I can say is: You? A cat grad? Impossible.

Love,
Me, Who is Sometimes as Lazy as You When it Comes to Annotating Stickers.

PAGE 19: A Really Boring Page Full of Babies

...AND THIS TOTALLY TRIPPED-OUT BUNNY. WHhhoooaaaaa!!

PAGE 20: Halloweenies

As if I didn't already have enough useless Halloween stickers, here are some more.

A completely ineffective ghost:


A cat jammin' on top of a cool-guy pumpkin:


Slowpoke Rodriguez's drinking buddy:


And, um, this really creepy medley of sweets that, save for maybe the candy corn nose, really has nothing to do with Halloween:


Or anything, for that matter.

Also on this page:

90s Mickey:


Nerds:

PAGE 21: An Even More Boring Page with
Some Horses on It

And these suckers! Hahaha!

THE FINAL PAGE: #1 All-Time Anti-Climax Let-Down

Well, this is it. The last page. Instead of ending with a flourish, I chose to end in the dullest, most numbing way possible. Namely, with a shit ton of ducks.

If you are in need of a duck sticker, please call me. I have plenty.


The only things on this page that are even remotely interesting are these:

1) A horse not giving a shit about a hill side billowing smoke.

2) A horse not giving a shit about a dog inexplicably sitting on his back.


CONCLUSION: Given my circumstances, i.e., having to use a totally incompatible cast-off photo album for a lame collection which I had neither the skillz nor the savvy to trade my way out of, combined with a level of impressionability and oh-well attitude that made me easy to rip-off, I tried. I really did.

Ultimately, this 3rd grade sticker book is just another fine example of my tendency, for all of my bravado and courage, to passively accept scenarios I ought to reject.

I was not born to be a 3rd grade champion sticker-collector.


Coming up soon: Why I Was Also Not Born to Be a Writer.


BEHIND THE SCENES BONUS:

It took me a while to finish this post because I got totally sidetracked with some Photoshop-ing. The end result is a good example of how a train of thought typically progresses for me:

1) For the penultimate page 21, I wanted to include an isolated image of this:

And then I was like, actually...


And then I was like, oh wait, shit:




And then, finally, I was like, aw, what the hell:

Analysis of My Third Grade Sticker Book: Part I

When I was seven, long before the brutal death of suffix -s at the hands of a lecherous, pre-teen she-gang, one of my primary concerns in life was the competitive 3rd grade sport of sticker collecting.

While most of the girls I knew had slick, store-bought sticker books, I had a cast-off photo album. Unlike the specifically designed, waxed vinyl pages that my friends had, the hyper-grip of my photo album made for a horrifically incompatible and ruinous surface for my collection. It was a total piece of shit. Once I put a sticker down, it stayed down.

The stickers below, for example, are proof of what would happen if I tried otherwise:

Why Beefeater Garfield and an Easter Egg were privileged enough to grace the front cover, however, I will never know.

Onwards.

The inside cover:

Here we find a perfect example of 1) repulsive handwriting and 2) my obsession with America.

As far as I was concerned, anything cool in the world— L.A. Lights, Pop-Tarts, backwards turned baseball caps and other nonverbal gestures of sass, etc.,—came out of America. Anything European—clogs, bonnets, cheese, my parents— was for nerds. Europe didn't get it. Europeans didn't go around saying cowabunga. They didn't believe in cheeseburgers. They didn't have attitude.

Look at the dog I drew there. He's an American. I can tell because 1) he is posing between two American flags raised triumphantly on a hillside and 2) he looks cool and nonchalant, as evidenced by his mischievous smirk. Appearing cool and nonchalant, after all, were traits I considered exclusively American.

At one point there may have also been twin cats momentously climbing up the flag poles but it appears that, presumably because they were neither cool nor nonchalant enough to be American, they were savagely erased.

Moving along.


Page One and Two:

My obsession with America could only be eclipsed by my obsession with dogs:

Just as I dealt with other shortcomings in life, like not being American, or the white, medical eye patch I was given to wear for a woeful Halloween pirate costume one year*, so I dealt with the disappointment of my total piece of shit photo album. By meticulously numbering my stickers, (e.g. #23, "small, boring heart") I made my collection look confident and well-organized. In actuality, this was only done to hide the tragic irreversibility that my tyrannically adhesive pages enforced.

Page Three:

Page Three is primarily made up of seasonally themed/reward stickers I earned for schoolwork, although I'm not sure I understand some of the praise. Such as:


1) Lincoln marveling at the love in his hat:

2) A skunk preparing to take liberties with a boot:

3) Three fish simultaneously greeting one another. (If I saw this happen in real life, I would probably not remark "VERY NICE.")

4) A vaguely sinister, Prince-themed Christmas mouse creeping around my house wearing mod boots:

Speaking of mod accessories...

Whoa. Tom definitely does not own a Vespa. No way. Also, I'm pretty sure Tom and Jerry are mostly into trying to destroy each other with extreme violence, like putting each others' tails into waffle irons, crushing each others' heads in doors, and/or slicing each other in half. So I don't think that Tom would be all cool with Jerry—now inexplicably a glovelet wearing art fag—just cruising by on a skateboard with his attaché and showing off with a jaunty, ta-dahhh wave.

Since when do enemies go surfing together?! Where did Tom find board shorts two-tone matched to his own fur scheme? And why is he suggestively dangling his sunglasses out of his mouth and looking at me like that?

And I object to cats owning jam boxes! And heel-clicking! And flesh-colored visors! Enemies do not strut down coast lines together.

Well shit, maybe it's because they're not enemies after all. Because if there's one way for enemies to bury the hatchet, it's to get totally wasted together. Which is obviously what's going on here. Tom's all eyes-rolling-in-the-back-of-his-head, got-his-hippie-sandals-and-casual-shirt-on stoned, the sun is an overtly symbolic kite high up in the sky or else a surrealist tacked-on drawing, and Jerry is completely passed out with his hands down his pants, if not, in his inebriated state, just oblivious to the laws of social propriety and casually touching himself in public. These guys are clearly shit-housed. And whatever they're on, they probably got it from this guy:

Page Four:

I call bullshit on this entire page. Seriously.

#132: "3 eggs nestled in grass."





#143-146: "Arbitrary patterns."

#161-162: "Family Chicken Portraits."

#163: "Half-Assed Shapes."

What a bunch of loser stickers. Did I seriously think that anyone, with their fancy professional sticker books, would be willing to trade something for these? Man.


Page 5:

Booooorrriiinnngggg. Yeah, not a whole lot going on here. Oh, except for this Christmas Shopping Duck Slut:

What gives? All of her Christmas buddies are appropriately clean-cut ambassadors of the simple joys of Christmas time, and then she steps in all being a ho. Whose decision was that?

Next time: Look out for more slutz, plus babies, the inevitable Lisa Frank, demented food items and more!!

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