Helga “The” Weber: 24-years old, wearing an alligator foam visor slash party favor meant for little people. By little people, I mean small-headed midgets (don’t most of them have physically bigger heads?) and/or persons aged 7 and below.

(I had to stretch the garter to its limit just so my 24-year old head could fit through.)

Sunday late evening, I had to run to the nearest provider of cheap Third World gadgetry; my mouse had suffered yet another fall, dislodging and rendering the scroll wheel useless, and making me curse the day concrete floors were invented. After purchasing an el cheapo retractable mouse (I really should invest in a more expensive one), I decided to go to the super bookstore.

Maps, I wanted maps. Lots and lots of medium-sized maps, particularly of Manila (how was I to know they didn’t make these?) and of Los Angeles (how was I to know they didn’t make these, either?), all to plaster my walls with. LA maps clustered together on one side of my wall, Manila maps on the other, and then lots of blue paper in between. I also wanted red paint or a red Sharpie, something to doodle on the maps with (I was planning on drawing hearts and dashed lines and then making paper airplanes and taping them to the maps on my walls). Somewhere there, letters made of cut up art paper would read: wait, they don’t love you like I love you.

I had it all in my head: a vision of teeny artsy-fartsy chuchu, something that the Tumblr teens would totally lap up (ah, I could imagine all the likes and reblogs), and it took a pair of traction-less sandals to keep me from skipping excitedly to the bookstore.

On the third floor are where the maps are, said a saleslady. Silly me, expecting so much from our local bookstores (but then, silly me for even thinking that such maps would exist). The largest world map (which isn’t even what I was looking for) costs 250 pesos. I’d have needed six or eight to cover an entire bedroom wall (and then that would be ridiculous as I’d have several Manila-LA airplane routes instead of just one big one) and I didn’t exactly feel like spending that much money on glossy, mass-produced maps (I would learn later that 250 for a large map is reasonable, heh).

Slightly dejected, I made my way down back to the first floor (with two rolled up medium-sized world maps taken out of frustration) and wandered the aisles. I picked up a bottle of antique red acrylic paint (whether or not my body will react badly to this, I shall find out next weekend), some face paint, and some colored paper. I made my way to the balloons and that’s when I saw that little green foam animal head. I squealed silently (it must be noted that I prefer crocodiles but alligators are just as cute…until they bite your arm off), grabbed it (it was the only alligator left), and went to pay for my stuff. I felt a little better.

I wonder what it feels like to be 24.

I might go back for the giraffe visor and wear it when I visit a Plano cosmetic dentist.