Tuesday, September 19, 2006
The other day I was cleaning out my closet, and came across one of those big boxes filled with mysterious shit, all jumbled together from various stages of your life: cards from ex-boyfriends, concert tickets, gag gifts from Spencers and the like. Toward the end of my search in the depths of this time capsule, I found a small white box. Written across the top in purple lettering were the words TACKY FINGER.
I was perplexed.
For some bizarre reason, I had stolen a box of Tacky Finger, the gloop we used to facilitate script ripping at CNN. This was back before laser jet printers, when the scripts had carbons between them, and were color coded. Directors and anchors would get miffed if they got the wrong color. I don't remember who got which colors. But back then, giving someone pink when they were used to yellow was a grave, punishable error.
The point is, I stole a box of Tacky Finger from my employer sometime in the late 1990's.
Then I traveled with it across the country.
From state to state, apartment to apartment.
And no, I haven't thrown it out yet.