I, like every girl I knew at the time, purchased this fine cd with hard earned babysitting money as soon as it came out and spent endless hours dancing around and singing to "I Think We're Alone Now" and "I Saw Him Standing There." As you can see from all the scatches, mine endured alot of abuse. But come to find out, various members of my family have STOLEN it over the years (from me and then each other, I guess) and I just recently regained possession of it. Both of these people should be horrendously embarrassed--not because of their blatant thievery, but because how many GUYS do you know that will swipe a Tiffany cd? Tiffany? Come on!
I have pretty concrete evidence on the first suspect. But I have to preface it with some background info. Besides our nail-biting habits, flat bums, and love of Blue Bell ice cream, my dad and I share some similar habits. One being list making. At either of our houses, you will find lists near any writing surface. Lists of things To Do, things to pick up at the store, random ideas, phone calls to make, etc.
1. Lists are awesome
2. Lists Rule
3. You can't have too many lists.
I have clear memories of one of my dad's favorite lists when I was younger. It was The Ultimate List that puts all other lists to shame. But it was more than just a list--it was actually a list beefed up on steroids. It eventually ended up as a spreadsheet made on the computer listing all the cd's he owned--in alphabetical order (of course)--and containing all the necessary info, like date purchased, genre, track titles, etc. I think there was even some cross-referencing between artists and stuff. Anyway, every so often when he'd buy new cd's and consequently have to update The List, my job was to take the new list and make sure all the cds in the cd storage drawers were in the right cases and in correct alphabetical order. I gained a fantastic grasp of A-B-C order at a young age.
The other OCD trait we share is labeling. We love to label. All things. Any things. Things of value. Things of minimal or no value. Things just look better labelled. Even my kids are labelled. Like Cabbage Patch Kids--right on their rears in scrolling cursive. With permanent marker. Silver--my favorite. Don't worry, my silver sharpie is labeled too.
Anyway, so as soon as the cellophane wrapper came off the cd, out would come his fine point red sharpie and the cd would get labelled with his initials. Each time. Every cd. Same initials. Same place. Same size. And it's a good thing he did, or I wouldn't have my crystal clear evidence against him.
What's that? WHAT? My dad's initials on MY Tiffany cd? Now you may say, "Perhaps he bought his own copy." Doubtful. What grown man buys a cd of a 17 year old teeny-bopper singer? I think it would be less shameful to just admit stealing it and absentmindedly labeling it without realizing which cd it was. It is hard to control the labeling obsession, I am quite aware of that. And besides that, most of his cd collection was honky tonk country western singers like Alabama or old folks like Neil Diamond. And then there was the George Michael cd I bought him when I was 10, containing the song "I Want Your Sex." Yikes. I'm sure I had no idea but I am totally mortified now that I ever gave that to him. I'm sure he was more than a tad mortified then. But it too got labeled and added to The List.
Now that brings me to Thief #2. I was at my brother's house a couple of weeks ago and his wife hands me Tiffany and says, "Todd wanted me to give this to you." AHHH! I was so glad to see her too-big black sweatered hand caressing her face again. It had been far too long. I have NO idea when or how my older brother ended up with MY Tiffany cd. Or why he would even want it. Or why he has clung to it all these years. But it's ok, cuz she's back with me now and I am going to relabel her with MY initials, so take THAT red sharpied MRL. And I think my brother and I are even now, because I'm pretty sure I stole and then lost a Depeche Mode cd while he was hanging out in Brazil for two years. Too bad I hadn't labelled it so whoever found it could return it to me.
I'm starting to wonder where my New Kids on the Block tape went...? Boys--I'll go easier on you if you confess now.
And now I can cross "Make fun of dad on blog"off of my list.