Lol we need to start a 'Pony Huffers Anonymous' support group! I love taking a big whiff of my Perfume Puffs... especially Lavender Lace!!! I would SOOOO rock some Lavvie scented perfume!
Ahhh... Pony smell.... *drools like Homer Simpson*
Hahaha, Pony huffers! That's cute! I just pictured a bunch of us all sitting in a circle dressed like hippies and one of us says "Heeeyyy man, you gotta get a huff of this perfume puff, she's totally gnarly" and we're passing around ponies like a-- uhh, a- oh I don't know if I'm allowed to say drug references here, but you know what I mean. Little paper twizzlestick full of happy grass. And each one putting the pony up to their face and closing their eyes.
Then someone spots us and says, "HEY! ARE YOU HOOLIGANS HUFFING PONIES?" and we'll act like nothing was going on and we'll just say "Nahh, man! We were just brushing their hair!"
I do realize that I am totally crazy and get lost in my crazy little worlds. xD
I don't go into my pony room every day, so the smell of vintage vinyl really accumulates. When I DO open the door, it's like being 5* again. G1's smell COMPLETELY different than the G3's, regardless of where they came from.
*I'm old now. And feeling it.
Yes, I completely agree! G3s only really have a smell when they are new out of box, and it's not the same smell, it's just a new tennis ball kind of smell. The G1 side of my room just hits me when I go anywhere near it, (like my closet) and then I just want to touch them all and hold them. So there I am, half-dressed and touching ponies, my ADD leading me away from the clothes closet and towards my collection. I often find myself distracted by them and it leads me astray at the most inconvient times.
I felt old when I was 5. I've always been the person who holds on to the happy things in the past, especially childhood. On my 5th birthday I literally worried myself sick and cried. When my Mom asked me what was wrong, I told her I was getting old, and I didn't want another birthday. I told her my childhood was going by too fast and I feared more than ANYTHING becoming a teenager. I was afraid I'd turn 13 and throw away all my ponies. My Mom told me no one has to grow out of their toys, and that she still had her barbies in the attic. I'm glad to say, 11 years later, I still want ponies for my birthday.
Holy crap that's more than a decade. I've lived a decade. In four more years that will be two decades. It's so weird, because that birthday seemed so close.