Hi. I’m Tripler, and you may remember me from a various bunch of threads over the past seventeen years (almost eighteen). I’m here today to admit that I have a [del]problem[/del] hobby; I’m an adult, and I play with Legos.
My addiction re-started back in 2015 when I went to visit some old friends, and be there for my now-Godson’s baptism. The older kids wanted to go down in the basement and “play Legos.” I thought to myself, “Self, you used to have fun with it. . . go down and bond with the kids. Go ahead. What could it hurt?”. That was the first step. . . the hook was set.
Fast forward to this past summer, when I went to a family reunion, and my niece and nephews had a goddamn bucket of random Legos. Watching those kids have fun putting things together, I fell victim to the brightly colored plastic stackable crack-cocaine that is Lego. Through the random pile of parts, I slowly started recognizing parts and pieces from my childhood–there were pirate hats, jet engines, little lasers, pirate cutlasses, sail masts, etc. These kids had inherited my Lego sets! Immediately I started concocting what I could, and built a meager semblance between what was left of the pile and the childhood imagination I had neglected. . . but it was so damn fun. When we were done, there were spaceships, time machines, monsters, a dollhouse, and a two-year-olds’ Picasso-esque cubist interpretation of. . . f*ck, whatever artistic talent a two year old has.
Hit FFWD again to Christmas this year, and to the fact that my parents came out to visit me here in NM. Grant the fact that I am 40 years old. What was under my little tree? TWO wrapped Lego packages of Star Wars models. The SIGO watched me gleefully giggling while looking through the book to build an Rebellion A-Wing and a Republic Assault Tank. Oh my Noodly-Appendaged One I have never felt so young and had so much fun on Christmas Day. Yes, I shamefully admit I pick up both models and make the “chew-chew-chew” sounds while they ‘attack’ each other. I go back to my childhood with these toys, and I don’t care.
Let’s go to yesterday, where I went to the Albuquerque ComiCon. There were two dealers there selling Lego figures: the first had the Lego Death Star and a Star Destroyer (I didn’t ask the price, but I’m sure it was high-four figures), and a second with some smaller items. I picked up three custom figures for $10. I have them; they are mine. I have a piece of my childhood all over again.
I realize I have an addiction, and I openly admit it. I am an adult, and I play with Legos.
Tripler
Legos are worse than heroin.