Do you remember how fricking amazing book orders were? That was the best part of my grade school experience, hands down. Or it at LEAST vies with the time my fourth grade class made a baobob tree out of chicken wire, cardboard and paper mache while watching The Lion King.
Scholastic would send out their little forms, consisting of pages and pages of discounted books. You’d circle way too many; your mom would make you whittle it down (or be overly indulgent until your dad stepped in), and then you waited. Weeks would go by, you’d learn about long division, and one day there would be several red and white boxes from Scholastic on your teacher’s desk, and she – demon harpy that she suddenly was to you – would refuse to open them until the end of the school day, knowing full well that once the class got their books/stickers, there’d be no going back to learning.
I totally want book orders as an adult. Some might say that would be browsing Amazon at work, but it’s totally different. I demand insanely thin paper catalogues with pictures of the books that I can circle, then add up the cost of on the order form, hand that with a check to some authority figure, and have the books withheld from me until I get off work, making the receiving of them all the sweeter.
…it’s thoughts like these that make us a nation of adolescents. I have precisely two responsible, adult-like friends, and I’m intimidated by them because they understand things like ‘mortgages’ and ‘car…things.’
I blame this entire entry on Borders sending out a 50% off coupon today to their mailing list. It’s made me way too giddy.