What Do You People Do With Your Metal Stickers?
If you are anything like these two dorks, you attach them to your face to distract interlocutors from your dead eyes and botox-induced facial paralysis.
Hello you fine literate metalheads of the Toilet. Although many of you clearly fall into the category of metalbuttz. Whether you are a metalhead or a metalbutt or something in between, I’d like to know what on Earth you use your metal stickers for. You know, the ones you buy at merch tables or on craigslist if that still exists or the ones that you get for free with purchases from bands and labels. Because let’s face it: as cool as metal stickers may be, we’re all adults here, and at this point in our lives stickers are pretty useless. Unless of course you’re one of those special adults who still takes a lunchbox to class or work (for instance a vintage He-Man box containing Shark Bites, a PB&J sandwich on white bread with the crusts cut off, and a bag of grapes your mom/significant other believes you will eat).
I like stickers. Who doesn’t? I never purchase them, but occasionally one or two or six will show up unexpectedly with a CD or shirt I’ve ordered. These are the good days. The CDs and shirts are awesome–but you knew they were coming. It’s the surprise stickers which inspire you to go to the dry-erase calendar on your refrigerator and smudge out whatever box you’ve allotted for “kill self here”. I am always filled with childlike glee upon the discovery of free metal stickers. I shake them out of the envelope, spread them out on the coffee table and study them with a stupid smile on my jerk face. Some stickers represent bands or entities I adore; others are simply too sexy not to stick on something. I am brimming with optimism. The possibilities for utilizing these stickers toward the long-term betterment of self and life seem endless.
That is, until I try to think of a single specific possibility. The glee is short-lived, kiddies. The swift and bludgeoning realization that I have no use for these marvelous stickers leads to existential angst: If I cannot even figure out what to do with these attractive and very badass stickers, how am I supposed to figure out what to do with my life? I wait and wait and wait…and the answer never comes. Days pass…weeks…and then, out of sheer desperation, I begin the sticking process.
The stickers I find aesthetically pleasing yet not necessarily indicative of my specific tastes usually end up on the dolly I use for work. (The dolly was already covered in nauseating energy drink stickers when it was bequeathed to me, so not only am I personalizing it–I am simultaneously making the world a less mediocre place.) A manager at a Circle K correctly described these stickers as “brutal”. My supervisor incorrectly identified them as “Satanic”. I mean, yeah, sure, that one cat has an inverted cross on its forehead (which you can’t really see because my camera is a better phone than a camera), but come on, it’s an ironic inverted cross. And sure, some of those bands employ generic Satanic themes and imagery, but it’s all in good fun; I doubt any of them are practicing Satanists. Anyway…
The stickers which signify things I hold most dearly sometimes make it to the bumper of my car. These are precious few. First of all, I’m not really into bumper stickers. At best they give you something to squint at while driving behind someone; at worst they are infuriatingly ostentatious and/or cluttered. I don’t even think many of the stickers I’ve gotten are intended to work as bumper stickers–many of them succumb swiftly to the hot, dry wind and the pitiless, searing sunlight.
So as to avoid rear-bumper clutter, I affix many of my stickers to the leg of the dark “wood” desk where I write. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I’m sentimental. Maybe I just panicked.
I used to put stickers on the cover of my laptop computers, but…laptops have a ridiculously short lifespan, and each time one dies it takes a whole mess of beloved stickers with it, and I don’t really need that level of grief in my life. So I try not to stick shit to my new(est) laptop. Except for just this one. I could not resist the opportunity to profane the icon of Our Lord and Savior.
There is a sad place in my apartment which is neither here nor there. I call it Sticker Limbo. This is a small pile on an end table containing duplicates, stickers I hate but can’t bring myself to discard, or those whose rightful destination continues to elude me.
It is not generally recommended to put stickers on your pets. But my cats really dig Leviathan. See below for proof. (Disclaimer: two felines were perturbed and inconvenienced in the making of this article.)
If you prefer not to stick things to your pets because you are not cruel (or you cannot catch them), you can always stick them to whatever instrument you play in your awful imaginary one-person whatevercore band. I was recently gifted this electronic drumset, which I totally do not plan to use to record my bedroom black metal demo. It seemed as fitting an object as any to double as a beacon of my consumer preference:
I reached out to some others for editorial balance. Boss the Ross responded with these stickers he found in the streets of the world. Which is actually probably the best place for any metal sticker. Don’t be miserly and horde them to yourself. Share them with Nature. Spread the word.
Deface Beautify public and private property alike. With metal stickers in the streets, wherever you are is where it is most definitely appropriate to open this fuckin’ pit up. (Note: I’m well aware that Boss is a superior photographer.)
Boss also sent me photos of the stickers on his turntable, but…uh…they contain a metal band I am not willing to endorse, so…sorry Ross.
And Cybernetic Organism says “I only need one sticker on my guitar case.” Classy as always.
So, You People. What do you do with your metal stickers? Collect them in a drawer? Mount them behind glass? Throw them in the garbage? Confess to Disqus below. Photos mandatory welcome.