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Scrapbooking a Trojan Horse: Inside the innocent hobby is a monster By
Bryce Casselman I tried to make it so that I never had to be in this situation again by asking my wife a couple of years ago to find a hobby. She took me up on my offer and chose scrapbooking, which if you are not familiar with, takes a paltry startup cost of nothing less than your eternal soul. You see, with scrapbooking, you have to buy the paper, the scissors to cut the paper with, the multi-shaped punches and die-cuts to decorate the paper with, glue to stick it all together, page covers to protect the finished pages and of course a binder to place them in. But these are only the tip of the iceberg that lies in wait to sink you in the frigid, acid-free waters of scrapbook hell. The real problem with scrapbooking is the fact that it can snowball from a couple of pictures of Uncle Fred into a multi-level collaboration of color and style that often give the editors of Vogue a run for their money. For example, my wife began by visiting the scrapbook store in the beginning, buying individual pages of cute, innocent-looking scrapbook paper. This pile of paper soon grew into stack that required a filing case to keep track of it all and then a portable office on wheels with a fulltime clerk to retrieve pages from the archives and a couple of outside consultants to decide which shade of yellow best matches fluffy's collar. And now that my wife has acquired all of the needed accessories to hold her accessories that allow her to make the perfect page that you just can't put a price on, we've decided to take out a second mortgage to add another wing on the house so that she can have a place to keep her legion of scrapbooking capital. So now, I often find myself staring into the jaws of hell, preparing to delve once again into the world of stencil patterns, sparkle pens and theme borders and think to myself, why so long ago didn't I just have bought her a movie?
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