Today my husband and I did our Christmas shopping for our spoiled brats. It's a tradition to knock out the toy shopping the weekend before Thanksgiving in order to avoid the insanity that is Toys R Us post Turkey Day. Husband and I are neither one good with crowds. One Christmas season I lost it in a Target and purposefully rammed my cart into a woman that seemed bent on getting in my way. The cart nicked her heel, but you would have thought she'd lost her foot the way she wailed. Whatever. While she fell over in pain I was able to maneuver my cart right by her.
Today was pretty painless since the crowds aren't out yet and we managed to pretty much get it all done. I thought the shopping this year was more fun because this was the first year Barbie was on Samantha's list. I know I should probably ban Barbie from our home and preach to my daughter that she's an unrealistic body type and ancient symbol for female oppression. But, I love Barbie. The hair, the clothes, the accessories, the town home! When I was a little girl I had a multitude of Barbies and Barbie stuff. I had a Barbie horse, the pink corvette, the pink bathtub, and the swimming pool (with outdoor shower). I had two Barbie houses- first, I had the town home that was three or four levels (mostly made of cardboard) and an elevator that slid up one side when the string on the other side was pulled; second, I had the Barbie Dream House. The Dream House was white, orange and yellow (colors for the late 70s and early 80s) and came in two segments. It even had window boxes with fake greenery! So awesome.
The clothes were actually the best part of Barbie. I had everything from ball gowns to cowgirl gear. Though I kept my Barbie in skirts since as previously disclosed I have a predilection for dresses/skirts. I could never keep up with the shoes so when I got desperate for footwear I fashioned twistie ties around the ridiculously arched Barbie feet. And I usually called my Ken doll Scott Baio. Barbie and Scott would run into each other at a Barbie concert and though they would not get along initially they always wound up making out in the Barbie corvette. Barbie was a whore so Scott usually got to sleep over at the Dream House. I miss my Barbie Jurl!
The clothes were actually the best part of Barbie. I had everything from ball gowns to cowgirl gear. Though I kept my Barbie in skirts since as previously disclosed I have a predilection for dresses/skirts. I could never keep up with the shoes so when I got desperate for footwear I fashioned twistie ties around the ridiculously arched Barbie feet. And I usually called my Ken doll Scott Baio. Barbie and Scott would run into each other at a Barbie concert and though they would not get along initially they always wound up making out in the Barbie corvette. Barbie was a whore so Scott usually got to sleep over at the Dream House. I miss my Barbie Jurl!
Other honorable mentions for childhood toy delight are: Easy Bake Oven, Baby Alive, and the Barbie Styling Head. Uh, wait a second, what does it say about me that I thought big fun was baking, changing fake poop diapers, and styling Barbie locks with pink plastic rollers? I was a stereotype before I even got my Margaret (see Jurl glossary)! Oh, well, those toys still rocked.
A few toys that sucked: Strawberry Shortcake and her stinky ass friends; cabbage patch dolls (they grew in a cabbage patch?? what?), and acid dropping Rainbow Brite- I don't even know what she was supposed to be, a psychedelic, hippie wood nymph?
I got a say, having a little girl brings back the magic of my own childhood Christmas, though toys have changed through the years the familiar staples of toydom remain. Though, sadly, Barbie isn't the sluttiest doll on the block anymore. Now there are something called the Bratz Dolls. I don't know from what perverted hell they sprang, but I hate them. The name alone, Bratz, is so un-classy. And you can't put a Bratz doll in a winter wonderland shimmering formal! No, a Bratz doll must keep to it's cheap belly shirts and low rider jeans. However, I did see a Bratz Ski Resort and must admit I was impressed by the chair lift and snow machine.
Anyway, I love Barbie despite her tiny waist, big boobs, and inability to recognize the love of her life is super gay.
4 comments:
Remember spirograph? That was one of my fav Christmas presents. Other favs: a sit n' spin, the EZ Bake Oven, the doll (was it a Barbie? I can't remember now) whose hair "grew" when you pulled on her ponytail, a long dress with pinafore (very Little House on the Prairie- it was red gingham with a white pinafore trimmed in red rick-rack), Liz Claiborne bucket bag (in high school, obviously), and anything Forenza from The Limited (again, high school).
PS- my mom wouldn't buy me all that fly Barbie stuff and I have to say, it affected me and my popularity and hence, my confidence, for some years. I had the Granny-made frontier dress and bonnet for my Barbie made out of leftover quilting material, which simply did not cut the mustard and were more embarassing than anything. You are a good mama to get your little girl the real deal, she will have fond memories. Not that I don't have fond memories of making a Barbie car out of a saltine box, or a Barbie house out of a suitcase box (with home-made curtains out of Kleenex!), but I would have died of embarassment had any of my friends seen those home-made Barbie accessories. I played Barbies with friends exclusively at their houses and not at mine. My mom says I'm better off now for not having had the Barbie swag, but I can't possibly see how... My little girl will get the full on Barbie treatment if she wants it!
Get this- when I was at home this weekend for Thanksgiving my mom offered to give us all of my old Barbie stuff to take home for my lil' girl (just 14 months now so she could care less). I was shocked to find that the frontier girl outfit- lavender and white gingham- still survives, as do the saltine box car and all four nappy-headed Barbies, one of whom had an 11 year old administered haircut. I brought them home and they now reside in my attic. I have to think that they will look all the more sad with 25 years added to their already sad state. They will be brought out only in emergency situations. Pretty sweet of my mom to save all that crap, though- I was shocked, grossed out, and touched all at the same time.
My brother wants to start a line of dolls called either "Tartz" or "Slutz." HA!
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