My readers have responded that I might have real deranged blurbs along with my imaginary deranged ones! Thanks, guys! Alice feels the LOVE.
“Dear Alice, you’re funny, and stuff. May you get these words tattooed on your left arm”.
– Le Clown
“I’m so fracking jealous that sad pony commented on Alice’s blog. I want a sad pony comment….okay, right, this is not about me…so yeah, I like Alice’s blog lots and lots like sad-pony lots.”
“I heard E. L James refer to your blog as ‘a spanking good read’ and don’t forget what Shakespeare said, ‘ Forsooth yon maid dost write with inflection and wit, prithee all should gaze on the visage of her blog.”
“Miss Four Eyes thinks Alice is hilarious. Alice is one of the bravest people Four Eyes knows for reading and blogging about butt plugs. And Alice has the best squirrel on the whole blogosphere! Four Eyes has also contracted the third person disease from Alice, who caught it from Le Clown, who ripped off Elmo. Elmo’s world theme song is now stuck in Four Eyes’s head.”
“Well, if Oprah likes Alice’s blog, then Jillian can’t not like it (sorry – the double negative kind of fell in there…). Because Oprah rules the world, and we all know it.”
Also, the amount of hilarity in your blog posts brings joy and happiness to my life! =D”
“Alice never disappoints. She’s full of raucous fun and wonderment. My day is not complete without a visit to her blog. For reals.”
“Storkhunter this Alice is the most funniest and altruistic blogger ever. She reads brain-bleeding books and writes about them so others shouldn’t risk the loss of brain power. Alice also lent Stork Sad Pony for a day. Stork likes Sad Pony, but Alice needs him more.”
“Alice, you are truly wonderful! In fact, I could go as far as saying that you’re lovely, wonderful, fantastic, georgous and stuff. (It’s the “stuff” that makes this saying work, I promise.)”
“Alice alice, bo balice, banana fana, fo phallus. Me my mo malice. ALICE!
Alice, the phallus with malice.
I’m just here for the open bar.”
Also, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Doggy’s Style who pointed out that there is not actually a blog for lepers. This should really be addressed. LepersRPeople2 you know. I am not mentioning Jen and Tonic who spoke of the dreaded clown’s camel ball on my press release blurb comment section. Bad, Jen. Bad, bad.
Hey, all, I’m ranting over at Le Eric’s Black Box Warnings today. Check it out!
Alice is pooped. Poop poop poop pooped. She willingly concedes the post-a-day-are-you-freaking-kidding-me challenge to Speaker 7 and Jen and Tonic. Apparently, her lungs have decided they are still tired. Also her brain.
I still plan on having the next recap up on Monday, because who can live without brain sucking literature? Also, on the 16th, Alice will be starring on Black Box Warnings, Le Clown’s more serious le site. Woot.
Oh, and “Post”.
For my latest Children’s TV review I took a frequent request from my children. The show’s actual title is “Maggie and the Ferocious Beast” which I guess is supposed to be ironic, because this beast is anything but ferocious. I’d say “fab-u-lous!” was much more apt. What do you think?
Yeah, so this show is about a little girl named Maggie (surprise) who either has very vivid hallucinations or happens to live right next to a rather dangerous portal universe. A yellow . . . thing with orange spots that look like giant pepperoni kidnaps her from her bedroom window every night. She’s quite willing – I’m guessing Stockholm Syndrome? – to go with him, and her parents never seem to notice her absence. So like I said, either delusions or portal universes where time doesn’t pass. Take your pick.
She calls him “beast” because either that’s his name or she’s just too rude to remember anything but that. If I got to name him, I’d go with Elton. I just think the similarities are uncanny.
Anyway, so Maggie and Elton have another friend, a pig named Hamilton. Get it? Ham-il . . . nevermind. Apparently he’s homeless, because he lives in a box. Yet he’s the most uppity homeless pig I’ve ever seen because he’s always wearing that preppy sweater (with an H so he remembers his initial) and matching chinos, probably bought from the Gap. Observe.
He’s also incredibly obnoxious. Sometimes I wish they would make “Ham” out of Hamilton. I am not the only one. While she was at church, Thing One created this for me to use on my blog post. It’s called “The End of Hamilton from Maggie and the Ferocious Beast.”
In case you can’t read that, Maggie says “Who knew Hamilton would make such good bacon?” I’m especially impressed with the set of preppy clothes laid out beside them while they knosh on their former friend. I have a feeling children’s show cartoonists will be knocking on our door any minute to beg Thing One to work for them.
This show had some fab-u-lous plots. One time the wind blew so hard that Elton lost his spots. They blew off and one landed in Hamilton’s face. That would have to be pretty gross. Imagine if part of someone’s skin blew off and hit you in the face? Yikes. Elton felt very naked without his spots, even though he’s always naked. And what’s up with that? How come Hamilton wears an entire set of clothes and Elton Beast doesn’t? I mean, Hamilton lives in a freaking box. The least Elton could do is put some pants on, especially with a little kid around. Jeez.
Maggie’s not a lot better. She has a whiny little voice and if not for her, this show wouldn’t exist since it’s from her viewpoint. Otherwise it would just be Beast and Ham, the Odd Couple for children. We wouldn’t be having all these whimsical freaking adventures either. I’m so sick of whimsical I could throw up in Hamilton’s box. Will Elton Beast get his spots back? Who cares? I’m pretty sure they found them and stuck them back on, though they never did explain how they fell off in the first place. Could you imagine if that could really happen? You’d have to hide your Dalmatians every time the wind blew.
On the plus side, I do not have to watch this show anymore, at least not without the alternately hilarious and disturbing commentary from my children. That makes any show worthwhile.
Irritating plots and characters: Yes
Elton John look-a-like Beast with Removable Spots: Yes
Preppy Homeless Pig in a Box: Yes
Delusions and/or alternate dimensions: Yes
It’s time for report cards, kiddies! Nooooo hiding them from your parents!
Fortunately for you, Alice is lazy and doesn’t care about grading – basically like your average college professor. My grad assistant Sad Pony threatened horse-i-cide again if I made him even think about 50 Shades, which is such a pain. I tried to get Squirrel to take his place but he’s not very reliable, always playing with his nuts.*
*True Story: I had a teacher in 5th grade who had a squirrel pic on the wall and a phone connected to nothing. If someone acted up, she would “call” the “squirrel” and say “Southwestern Squirrel, trouble on table 5.” Even at 10, we thought she was insane. Don’t let your babies grow up to be teachers. It’s too dangerous.
Okay, PSA done. Since Alice is lazy and has unreliable grad students, she consents to being bribed for good grades. With comments on her blog – get your head out of the gutter (unless you’re hot, then call me, maybe?). She doesn’t really care if you get the answers right or not, it’s ye old participation that counts!
You might notice that we have some new students that joined our class since the last update! I’d force these students to stand up and everyone else to say “Hi, so and so” just like they do in real classrooms and AA meetings, but I’m tired.
So without further ado, here is our class roll, ranked by number of comments on each post (there are six posts so far including the first update and our introduction to the contest – I have not yet added in yesterday’s comments) – which I counted all by myself. So probably you guys might want to recount.
If I didn’t give you enough, tell me. If I gave you too much, shut up. Did you learn nothing from high school?
Storkhunter 4 + 1 + 5 + 1 + 2 + 1 = 14
faithhopechocolate 4 + 2 + 7 = 13
Carrie Rubin 2 + 1 + 1 + 1 +2 +2 = 9
Ravinj 1 + 1 + 2 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 7
Speaker7 1+1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 6
MissFourEyes 1 + 1 + 2 + 1 + 1 =6
Lesbiannextdoor 1+ 1 + 2 +1 = 5
Angel Fractured 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 5
Ruby Tuesday 1 + 2 + 1 = 4
Love and Lunchmeat 2 + 1 = 3
Womanmdsguide 1 + 1 = 2
Giggles McGill Jill 2
Madame Weebles 1
Society Red 1
Jen and Tonic 1
Okay, as you can clearly see, Stork Hunter is our current valedictorian, and faithhopechocolate our salutatorian. Now THAT is something you want on a transcript. Some of you people have been skipping class a lot. Tsk tsk. But it’s not too late to bring your grade up! From now on Alice is adding points with each post instead of doing several at once because her math skills . . .
Anyhoo, so that’s our class rank for now. Remember it’s also quality that counts! Sure you could just write “comment” on a post, and that would be pretty funny actually but wait . . . no, a creative comment that makes me laugh or puke or has some sort of effect on me could add on to your final score. And I’ll probably have a blog post featuring my favorite comments, cause I have to come up with a post for every day this month. So keep them coming!
New students are welcome to join my mythical class at any time, and there is plenty of time for everyone to achieve high scores because there are a lot of chapters left . . . holy shit I’m in trouble.
Till next time, this is Professor Alice signing off.
*Note: Luigi will be playing the role of Christian this time in honor of Movember. And also because he has a creepy ass stare.
Okay, so first the answer to our True / False questions. 5A: Mostly True – she’s tied with Christian for worst character ever. 5B: True – this book has definitely caused brain damage. 5C: False – No, James isn’t planning to write a youth novel (as far as I know). But she might put out a fourth book! And there’s already a 50 Shades classical soundtrack out – available on Amazon! Because I know when I hear Canon in D, I always think about kinky sex play. Anyway, fans are clamoring for it! Why? Whyyyyy???. Expect a rain of frogs soon. Frowny faces all around.
As chapter, fuck, chapter five opens, Ana has a freak out because Christian’s not in bed (AnaFail). Nope he’s just sitting in a chair staring at her while she talks in her sleep about absolutely nothing, just like she does when she’s awake. This is not weird at all. I often watch my husband sleep, snoring away all romantically. And it’s certainly not weird for Christian, since he’s a vampire, um, psycho businessman (RedFlag)
Ana recalls how devastated and empty and hollow and in PAIN she was, because for about five minutes, she thought Christian was killed in Charlie Tango, his stupidly named helicopter. (AnaFail) Those were the best five minutes of that book for me. Christian tells Ana not to worry, he’s handling it. Wow, I’d feel secure. I mean, he totally handled that Leila thing – wait, Leila almost blew Ana’s brains out (darn the luck, almost).(RedFlag). But hey, there was the Jack rapist bit – wait, he just called a cab instead of arresting the creep and then yelled at Ana for letting herself nearly get raped. (RedFlag). So, yeah, great record so far(FacePalm).
Ana reflects that she’s had a blissful honeymoon (AnaFail, WTF) with just a few ups and downs, but that’s normal for newlyweds, right? (FacePalm) No. No, moron, it’s not normal for your new husband to chain you up and leave bruises on you.(RedFlag) You. Moron. Shut up. Please. Just. Shut. Up. (AnaFail)
Mr. and Mrs. Psycho go for a ride on the Jet Ski and Ana says “Fair point, well made, Mr. Grey” and I’ve come up with a new deduction for the stupid, repeated phrases. The (AliceScreams) deduction. Ten points off for these. I. hate. them. so. much. Shockingly, Ana mistakes the throttle for the break and flies off into the ocean (AnaFail). It turns out badly. She lives.
They ride home on the plane, first class, which is still soooo tiring for Ana (AnaFail). Christian talks about having a security aid’s balls on a platter. He’s said this before. I think he’s a wee bit too focused on balls, but maybe that’s just me. Christian has to carry Ana across the threshold so he has the brilliant idea to carry her all the way to the 40th floor. Look, idiot, “across the threshold” means carrying her through the door. That’s it. Idiot. (FacePalm) Anyway, to add to the idiocy, Christian comments that Ana has gained weight, which is a brilliant thing to say to an anorexic, especially when you’re so obsessed with her clearing her plate.(RedFlag, FacePalm)
Ana is miffed about this, but then Christian says she gained back the weight since she left him, and a tear falls from my eye, wait that’s snot from my nose, whatevs, and Ana is distracted by his fake anguish. (RedFlag) But you know that’s not going to last. We’re going to hear about this shit for a while, I can almost promise you.(AnaFail)
They have sex (Sexy Times) but fortunately we aren’t shown the entire scene. Ana says she can’t sleep, but Christian has the cure, and we all know what that is (SexyTimes) but once again, we’re spared. I can’t believe my luck. She asks if she can drive his car and he says sure as long as she doesn’t dent it because then he’ll torture her in the Red Room o’ Pain so in other words, don’t fucking drive his car, Ana. (RedFlag) They get to his stupid parent’s house, and there’s a cook-out, and Ana, surprise, gets jealous over the realtor because she’s pretty (AnaFail) and wonders why Christian didn’t consult her on plans (AnaFail). Gee, I don’t know, Ana. Maybe cause he owns you, and you don’t ask your table for advice?
They eat, well, except Ana, who, shock, is still concerned about the “fat” comment. (AnaFail) Christian threatens to spank her if she doesn’t get happy, and wow, threats of getting beaten certainly cheer me up! Good plan there. (RedFlag) Christian plays the piano and sings, and everyone is all moved and shit cause he hasn’t sung before, and all I can picture is that Peanuts kid on his toy piano. Who fucking cares? (BoredNow)
Christian gives Ana the keys to his car, but warns her not to bend it (the car? the keys?) or he will be “fucking pissed”. (RedFlag) Oh, those romantic threats. She starts speeding and Christian threatens punishment again and I’m too tired to redflag him at this point. Another call on the Elmo phone and ‘eh, oh’, they are being followed! I’m so worried. (BoredNow) Ana worries this person might be after Christipoo! (AnaFail) We can only hope! Ana freaks and asks how they know they’re being followed and guess why can you guess? It’s because the Dodge, yup it’s a Dodge following them, has false license plates. Just . . . what? (WTF)
So Ana speeds along, and the Dodge follows, and the security team follows the Dodge, or something, I forget because this makes no fucking sense (BoredNow, WTF) and during this high speed chase Ana reflects on stuff like Sawyer’s first name (who cares?) and whether she’ll get a speeding ticket and whether she’ll look like an asshole (always) and they keep fucking chattering and why won’t they shut up it’s a car chase and finally they turn into a parking garage which totally fools the Dodge which keeps going, proving that life really does work just like in cartoons (WTF).
Christian gives Ana a smiley sticker for her driving and it’s her “undoing” (AliceScreams) and she sobs and they still aren’t really safe cause the security team is still doing their freaking job, but hey Ana wants to do it in the car. (WTF, AnaFail, Sexy Times). And Ana thinks “this is so hot!” and Alice thinks “this is so stupid!” and they finally get back on the road and they find out the subject is female, whoop-te-do, and they finally get home but oh no there’s another guy there who dares to glance at Ana and Christipoo is pissed cause how dare someone make conversation and they get to their room and Ana says that after the car chase and the car sex she really wants rough sex (WTF) and Christian agrees. End chapter!
Final Score: 100 – (37 * 2) = 26 – (2 * 10) = 6
Question Five (Fill in the Blank!)
5A: The next chapter will be one, long, horrible, vomit-inducing sex scene involving Christian, Ana, and a __________.
5B: Christian gives Ana a present. It is a ________.
5C: Later Ana makes a big deal about cleaning the ________.
Good luck! Remember, if you fail, you might be held back and have to read 50 Shades of Crap and write a book report. You really don’t want that. No pressure.
Doncha just love my award posts? Of course you do. I think I will quickly make my mark on AliceBling™. There! Done.
This latest award is from Jiltaroo (cool name) who has presented me with the Versatile Blogger Award. I am nothing if not versatile. I mean sometimes I write about stupid stuff, and other times I write about . . . I’m sure there’s other stuff I write about. No matter. Thank you, Jiltaroo, for this latest bit o’ bling for me!
Would you like to donate bling to Alice? I’m not sure if you realize, but some bloggers can be fed on just a tiny bit of bling a day! Like, with the cost of one blog post, you could feed another blogger for a week! Reach into your hearts and dig out another sticker! Or those cool rhinestones you can glue on crafts! Any little amount would be appreciated. We must think of those less fortunate, those with no bling.
Thanks again, Jiltaroo and all you caring others who are featured on my Unbirthday Presents page . . . for making a difference.
*Post number something or other in the Blog-a-Day Challenge*
Hey you guys are not going to believe this. Well, yes you will. Le Clown has a press release section. It’s full of blog posts praising him. (I have one in there – actually I’m mostly being whiny that he got pressed and I didn’t but kudos for putting it in there anyhoo.) But here’s the deal. Alice does not have lots of posts created purely to praise her.
Oh, sure, I get plenty of awesome comments that are awesome (and I need a thesaurus) but entire posts? Not nearly that many! (Okay, I remember these by you Speaker, and Stork Hunting, and Ravin, and if I’m forgetting anyone write me a comment or just write nasty posts about me thanks. But this takes away from my experience of gross injustice, so shhh for now, kay?) Anything a burning clown can do, I can do better. So I think I’ll start my own press release section. The only problem is that I don’t have very many releases at this point. No matter. Alice can compensate.
(As an aside, did you notice that sometimes Alice speaks in third person? She contracted her illness from Le Clown who contracted it from Elmo.)
I’m always seeing posts about how to improve your blog, and this seems like the way to do it. And as I always say, if at first you don’t succeed in suckering people into writing you posts, cheat. So I have. Here are some excerpts. Check it out.
“Alice is the best blogger I have ever met. I want to marry her blog and have bloggy babiezz.” – SomeFancyPressedBlog
“Alice is so inspiring, I have decided to stop drinking and start doing acid.” – Ernest Hemingway
“After reading Alice’s blog, I figured out that I have no talent and should never, ever write another book so help me God. Thanks, Alice!” – E.L. James
“We can’t believe we have not freshly pressed Alice’s blog. We are so ashamed. From now on we will wear bags over our heads.” – WordPress
“After reading this blog, my leprosy was healed!” – LepersRpeople2blog
“Alice, this may sound crazy, but call me, maybe?” – David Hasselhoff
“I’m adding this blog to my blog club because it is so totally authentic and not at all filled with shallow lies!” – Oprah
“I never thought I’d find work again, but then Alice’s blog came along and now I am slightly less likely to break my own leg” – Sad Pony
“I thought I was totally messed up, and then I saw Alice’s blog. I feel much better now.” – The Mad Hatter
See? It’s easy to find praise if only you don’t care much about honesty or sanity! All that crap about cheaters never prosper? Pffft. They just didn’t want you to cheat and get all the really cool stuff that cheaters get. Like fabulously famous blogs like mine.
So remember, kids, it pays to cheat. It also pays to endlessly harass clowns. Although only his friends get to harass him, which means any trolls that say nasty things are going to have to deal with Alice, who if you might remember, defeated the freaking Jabberwock. You’ve been warned.
This has been my PSA for today. You’re welcome.
I am fortunate in that I now live only five minutes away from my workplace. Unfortunately, it takes me roughly thirty minutes to get there every morning. Why? Because I have children, people, and these children go to school, and these schools are on opposite sides of town for maximum convenience.
Now I’m grateful for school, mostly. I mean you get people to take your kids everyday for free and occasionally they even learn something. But getting them there really sucks. I live in a moderately sized town. Not so tiny that the only social outlet is a Dairy Queen, but too small to have anything open past 11 pm. When I was growing up, there were three schools: an elementary school, a junior high, and a high school.
Since then there has been a yard ape population explosion and now there are multiple elementary schools, an intermediate school, a junior high, and a high school. Intermediate and junior high (they totally demoted my high school, the jerks) only house two grades a piece but there are still roughly a million kids going to both schools. This is better than the elementary school that houses like eleventy-billion.
And all of these children have parents and all of these parents have cars. Most of them have SUVs, actually, with those charming little stickers on the back with the stick figure children. I freaking hate those stickers. Seriously, people, the reason there is so much traffic every morning is because you decided to have like eight children, all of whom have names that aren’t names and start with B – Barracks, Britain, Breyers, Bayer Aspirin, Bayleaf, Boo-boo, Bridge, and Beyonce. Also a dog: Barfy. (Please see Tracy’s post on these stickers that will make you laugh your butt off.)
These people always pull in front of me and then stop, blocking traffic, and forcing me to block traffic, while they tearfully give lengthy goodbyes longer than the Gettysburg address to every single little brat (and yeah, all of them somehow go to the same elementary school, which shouldn’t even be possible biologically).
I reach this elementary school first, just a couple of blocks from my house. At one time I could drop both children off there, but then Thing One had to get older and go to a charm school for adolescents. Now I have to plan this strategically. If I get there too late, I am never getting out of the parking lot before 8 A.M. when technically they expect me to be at work. So I try to get there at 7:30, because the earliest you can drop your children off is 7:30 without them calling the cops.
This is rife with problems since Thing Two has the memory of a gerbil and never, ever, ever puts any of her stuff (like coat, shoes, backpack, etc) away. I do not know where she gets that from, seriously. Also, she must always have a stuffed animal with her because it’s like her familiar or something, and it’s always a different animal so no fairsies trying to keep one where you can find it.
Once I’ve deposited her, I get to go to the other side of town through early morning traffic. Now they force people to drive 20 mph and not use their cell phones (this is, like, followed so religiously) in school zones so that they don’t run over any precious children. That’s great, but it also makes it damn near impossible to get anywhere going at that speed. Also, you must frequently sit at stop signs and watch as one car putts, putts, putts along just slowly enough that the car putting along from the opposite direction has enough time to prevent you from crossing. Or some jerk who is much more important drives up beside you and blocks your view as well. My children have learned so many new words on the way to school.
I finally make it to the opposite side of town to the intermediate school, whose parking lot is somehow even worse than the elementary school, by which I mean 18th circle of hell worse. I drop off Thing One, and wheeee, it is now time for me to go to work. At this point, if I’m lucky, we’re operating at 7:45. Now to go BACK across town to where I work, that also happens to be closer to the elementary school and my house.
Once I arrive, I am greeted by the awesome parking situation, by which I mean there is no parking except several blocks away from where I work. In case you missed that post (No Parking) I also pay for this privilege. Again, if I’m lucky, we’re now at 7:55 or so. Then I just have to hoof it to the library and ta-da, I am there! Well, I’m in the building, which flipping counts because I say so, and because I have to tromp across the library, up the stairs and across the second floor to get to my office.
Fortunately, I work till 5 PM so I am unable to pick my children up from school (SADFACED) although I do occasionally get calls at work wondering who IS going to pick up said children. Maybe they could ask SUV stick figure mom.
When I was a kid growing up in the 80s, I had tons of Barbie dolls. My mother wasn’t too concerned about that body image crap and neither was I. I just wanted her life, man. She was a teacher (with a really short skirt and a piece of chalk as big as her torso), a ballerina, an astronaut, a rock star (“Barbie and the Rockers” which was not a takeoff of “Jem”, who was truly, truly, truly amazing), a doctor, and even a “office woman” for those kids who didn’t get to see mom because she was working to pay for their toys. Day to Night Barbie had a suit that you could reverse to form a snazzy dress for late night partying! I don’t know where the heck Barbie worked, but if she had energy for partying, it couldn’t have been a very hard job. Then again, she admitted Math was hard (which it is) so I’m guessing she was a Presidential intern or something challenging like that.
She also had a lot of great stuff. A swimming pool (I just used a dishpan), cars (sneakers), and so many clothes! My grandmother was this great seamstress, so I had awesome personalized Barbie designs, you poor loser children. Of course my friends and I were too lazy to dress our Barbies, so we’d just pop their heads off and switch them. Barbie also had billions of spike-heeled shoes that were immediately lost in the carpet as soon as you opened the box. That had to suck for her, since she couldn’t ever put her feet flat, so she had to tip toe around everywhere she went.
I had the three-foot cardboard condo with the little white elevator you pulled with a string. It was cool, because she could stand up in this house. In most houses Barbie couldn’t stand up so she had to walk around hunched over. On tip toe. I felt sorry for Ken, living in the pink house, but looking back he probably liked it just fine. I think Barbie and he were just pals, personally, and Barbie had a thing for G.I. Joe – the doll one, not the action figure. That would have just been weird.
I had an aunt who liked buying me Barbie stuff. I got this way awesome refrigerator one Christmas with a bunch of teeny tiny groceries. My older brother helpfully glued every single thing inside the fridge so I wouldn’t lose it. I was not appreciative of this. How the heck was Barbie supposed to eat now? Then again, looking at her waist, this probably wasn’t that much of a problem for her. I also got this couch that made out into a double bed for when she had sleepovers. She and Ken liked hanging out on the couch bed and watching ballet, since that was the only thing the tiny plastic TV showed on its screen, a ballerina.
One thing my Barbies didn’t have, and that I totally salivated over, was the big, freakin’ Barbie Dream House. This thing was huge! Unlike the townhouse, it was made of sturdy pastel plastic. It came with tons of cool furniture and a wide elevator that her token wheelchair bound pal could ride on, or Barbie since there weren’t any stairs, and really, Barbie’s lazy. There was even this balcony for Barbie to bungee-jump from – if you were inclined to have her do this (and I was). I think my friends and I would have given our least favorite Cabbage Patch Kids as well as our siblings for one of these. But they cost like 150 bucks or something, and our parents didn’t love us enough to pay that much. So we did without. Life was cruel back then.
But one day the most exciting thing ever happened! I got the Barbie Dream House – as an adult. Um, for my daughters. It was only 7 bucks at a garage sale which was an unbelievable bargain. It even had all the freaking furniture. So I lugged this thing home, even though the kids technically already had Fisher-Price dollhouses (hey,
I they liked dollhouses, okay?). But this was no ordinary dollhouse. This was the DREAM HOUSE, people.
My children were not nearly as impressed as they should have been. Thing One was bummed that it was all in pastel colors, because she was so over pink, you know. Thing Two was happy with it, but she just didn’t get the grandness of it all. That’s because they have grandparents, ie my parents who did not buy me the Barbie Dreamhouse, who will buy them almost anything. Life is unfair.
Barbies in my children’s generation have changed too. When I was a kid Barbie still had her giant bosoms. I don’t know why they had to change this. I mean, some women just have big boobs, that’s part of life, kids. But I guess it was hard on her back, especially considering she had to also walk hunched over on tip toes, so she got a reduction. The problem is that now, if your kid happens to be playing with an older Barbie, she can’t fit into her clothes. My daughter has a Barbie (somewhere) that is a Mommy. Barbie’s red headed friend Midge sold out and settled down with some bozo and had kids. She even came with a pregnant tummy that held the new baby. You can pop the baby out and pop it back in again. I find this fascinating but a bit disturbing. I never want my babies popped back in again. Midge Mommy Doll can’t fit into Barbie’s clothes either. I think it’s because she’s a Mommy and no Mommy can fit into her old clothes.
Anyway, the Dream House is still there, and it still gets used, although my kids generally aren’t into playing families so much. Thing One loves fashion, so her Barbies are usually dressed in the latest tissue paper looks. Thing Two likes integrating her stuffed animals into the fun, which has to freak Barbie out a lot to see a penguin bigger than her house. Sometimes the Barbies hang by the neck from the top bunkbed, naked and upside down, tied up in my honor cords from graduation. I don’t ask why. My kids bicker sometimes, but mostly they do have fun playing together, while I play with the Dream House.