Really, Santa?!?! She doesn't even like Barbie that much. Every time I try to play with her, she strips off all of Barbie's clothes and just won't play right!
I was pissed. And green with envy. Lucky for me, though, my sister wasn't stingy like moi. While it wasn't technically my Barbie airplane, I had full access to it. Thank you, Jesus!
Though my parents never could afford that Barbie Dream House, I loved all the things I had that were adorned with the always famous Barbie logo. I even got Barbie skates one year!
Which is exactly why I was freakin' stoked when my daughter's letter to Santa contained these words: I want some Barbies and a Barbie house for Christmas, please. Hot dog! Mama's getting...um, well...I mean...G is getting Barbies for Christmas!
Because G's interest in Barbie is fairly a new phenomena, I didn't go apeshit over the Barbie gear. Besides, that little Christmas list also included a 4-wheeler and an iPod Touch. My kids are spoiled, but I couldn't
Wooo Hooo!!! Did I tell you how freakin' excited I was about the Barbie stuff?!?!?!
Fast forward to Christmas morning. There I was in the middle of the living room putting together all the gifts from Santa. Just like every Christmas morning. My job. Because Mr. OCD tends to lose his shit and break all the little parts by forcing them into the wrong places! And because I am a glutton for punishment, I found myself, once again, in Lego Hell. Yes, as in previous years, my son requested Legos. He loves Legos. As long as someone else puts them together. That someone was ME! AGAIN!
After several hours of tedious Star Wars battleship building, I was rescued by the Barbie Vacation House. Mama, will you put my Barbie house together?!?
Yes! Time to play Barbies!
First off, those instructions. Phew! The tiniest print I have ever seen. It took me a moment to realize that I was initially following the French instructions. It didn't matter, though. The English version was just as bad. Can we say, Mama needs some glasses???
After struggling a bit, it was finally together. Correctly. Time for stickers and even smaller instructions. Great...
While I'm going through the house applying stickers, I notice a disturbingly common theme among them. Picture of Barbie partying with friends on the frame. Check! Blender in the kitchen. Check! Bar. Bar stools. Check! Wine glasses. Chips and other appetizers. Bottles of pink bubbly...
Wait a damn minute. What the... *light bulb*
Barbie is a freakin' party girl! This vacation home is nothing more than a trap house with nice furnishings! Barbie and her girls and Ken are damn lushes. No wonder she has that sleeping mask. It's the keep the disco lights from disrupting her sleep once she passes out!
OMG! And why am I letting my daughter play with this stuff? Luckily, we don't have alcohol in our house so she doesn't know what those wine bottles represent. She's only five!
Then I thought, is this why I loved Barbie so much? Or worse, did I become a party girl as a result of my obsession with all things Barbie????
Holy crap! I smell class-action lawsuit! Can you imagine the generations of warped women who started out with a healthy love for Barbie? Lindsay Lohan? Britni Spears? Andy Dick?
I'm no rocket scientist, but it certainly makes me think WTF?!
2 comments:
BwaHaHaa! This must have been the cause of my party girl days too. Seriously, thank you. Who knew? :o
Ack! I loved my Barbies so much. I still miss playing with them. (And, like you, I suspect she is the cause of my former party girl ways.)
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