I was a Barbieless Girl... in a Barbie World

...and the blogger delves into her childhood, and the abuse she suffered at the hands of her feminist Mama....It has taken years, but I'm Ok... really...

Pandora Music Selection of the Day: Aqua Radio! (And, oh boy, is it bad.)

That Guy is upset that it was his kidney I was going to sell to help fund placating package for Little Miss High Intensity the other day. He is also tired of being referred to as "That Guy."

"What do you want me to call you then?"

"How about.... Mr. IQ 3000?"

I just can't, can't bring myself to call him that in this blog, however to his face I have been making great use of it. As in: "Where's the milk? Why, in the fridge, Mr. 'IQ 3000!'"

(And I'll be honest with you, Dear Blog World. Sometimes he just doesn't have that good of a sense of humour.)

I have just had another terrible 24 hours. FIRST, they cut off my phone. THEN they cut off my internet connection. (We're terrible about paying bills on time around here.) THEN our television broke. And THEN, just to make sure I was REALLY miserable, the fuse blew up, leaving our radio silenced and half the house in total darkness. All of this happened, no word of a lie, within the space of two hours. I, as per usual, was alone with the kids, and, I'll be honest here, when my radio went off, my spirit kind of died a little. Take away my phone, take away the computer and the TV, fine, but DON"T TAKE AWAY MY CBC RADIO ONE!! Many days come and go, and it is, for all intents and purposes, my only adult company.

"Hard times, mom," Little Miss H.I. said after I'd stomped around for a while muttering Big Person's words to myself. I swear that's what she said: "Hard times." She must have learned that from T.V. And people say it's so bad for you! Those hundreds of thousands of millions of hours of her young life spent entranced and mesmerized by television have served to both expand her vocabulary AND develop her empathetic skills. I have proof.

Speaking of the CBC, they had another interesting thing on the other day, this time about Barbies. It was about how young girls routinely mutilate and abuse their Barbies, and they interviewed a lot of kids who gleefully recounted tales of destruction and downright sadism. It brought me back to my own childhood, and this one afternoon when my friends Tracy and Kristin each chewed off their Barbie Dolls' breasts. Ew. At the time, though, I remember not being disgusted at all, more like feeling totally left out, and wistfully wishing that I too had a Barbie Doll to gnaw on. Hmmmm. Note to Self. The gift giving season fast approacheth. Must remember to phone mom and lay on guilt, re: cruel deprivation of Barbie in childhood. It's pretty obvious that because of some silly feminist principles she had, I missed out on an important pre-pubescent ritual. Such shameful negligence, I feel, can only be made up for in the form of a large, expensive, beautifully wrapped present. Or presents.

Heh heh heh.