Thursday, October 30, 2008

Can I get that with anti-anxiety medication?

Well, today is October 30th, and you know what that means - it's Christmas catalog time!

Unfortunately, the first catalog I received, from Barbie Collector, was selling some pretty disturbing gifts. (I should note here that I do not actually collect Barbies. I just think it's ethically wrong for toys to have better shoes than I do.)

Anyway. These aren't your run-of-the-mill Floozy Cheerleader Barbie or Chain-Smoking Hair Stylist Town Gossip Barbie dolls like you can get at StuffMart. These Barbies are obviously the creation of a psychopath. Either that, or someone's putting hallucinogenics in the water coolers down at the Mattel headquarters. I give you Exhibit A.

This would be Medusa Barbie. Because what's a childhood without a doll whose hair turns into a mass of writhing snakes?

But Exhibit B is even worse.
This, my friends, is The Birds Barbie. Here, Barbie is about to have her eyes pecked out and her flesh shredded by a flock of vicious birds, in a recreation of the scene from Alfred Hitchcock's classic horror film.

And a holly jolly Christmas to you, too, Mattel. Sheesh.

Okay, I know that these dolls aren't really intended for kids. But think about it. The average Barbie collector is probably about my age, which is none of your business but let's just say I've been 39 for many years. So, the average Barbie collector probably also has granddaughters. Can you imagine the conversation an 8-year-old girl might have with her friends after spending a night at Grandma's house?

Girl 1: My grandma has one of the very first Barbie dolls. She's on a shelf in grandma's guest bedroom.
Girl 2: My granny has Malibu Barbie on her shelf. I like her tan skin.
Girl 3: My grammie has Psycho Shower Scene Barbie. She comes with a little plastic knife and a shower spattered with real blood!
Girl 3: I have bad dreams at my grammie's house.
Girl 1: I have to go home now.

On the upside, a resourceful mom could really take advantage of this trend. 

Daughter, wailing: Mommy, Mommy! Rover chewed the leg off my Barbie! Wahhhh!
Mom: Oh, honey, look! Now you have Jaws Barbie!

Daughter, wailing: Mommy, Mommy! My Barbie's head came off!! Wahhh!
Mom, in a soothing voice: Oh, honey, look! Now you have Marie Antoinette Barbie!

Daughter, wailing: Mommy, Mommy! Susie came over and said President Obama said we HAVE to share, and she took all of my Barbie's clothes home with her! Wahhhhh!
Mom: Oh, honey, look! Now you have Socialist Barbie!

Be a responsible American citizen. VOTE ON NOVEMBER 4.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008


I admit it. I have no pride.

Please go and nominate me for a Homeschool Blog award. ------>

Anyone can nominate. Anyone can vote. 

And if I win, I promise not to do anything to the economy except buy more socks and underwear.

Recipe for mischief

Take one sixteen year old smarty pants daughter.

Add one photo of daughter's father. (The sun was in his eyes.) (Okay, it wasn't. He always looks like that.) (Especially at teenage boys, vegetarians, and men with purses.)
Combine with smarty pants daughter's growing skills with photo editing software.
Let ingredients simmer.

Return to computer to find this wallpaper.

I keep telling her she needs to use her powers for good rather than evil.

Monday, October 13, 2008

So near, and yet so far.

Recent stories from the world of science and technology report that a young man was equipped with a bionic hand, another man received two transplanted arms, and the U.S. Army is developing something called "synthetic telepathy ," which will allow people to send emails or voice mail by thought alone. (And for the sake of this entry, I'm pretending I didn't hear about the malfunctioning space toilet.)

This is all well and good, but here's what I want to know: Why can't someone create a shopping cart that doesn't take two strong men and a monkey to muscle through store aisles?

I was in StuffMart on Thursday night, on one of my bi-weekly trips for milk, socks, and underwear. It was 12:30 AM. I was the only shopper in the store. Well, there were a couple of guys lurking in the magazine aisle, but I think they were just killing time until their meth lab finished brewing back at the trailer park.

Anyway. You'd think the odds were good that I would get a cart with 4 wheels that all move, AND that move in the same direction. No. Apparently, StuffMart has a contract with a shopping cart manufacturer to buy only these types of carts:

  • The Political Cart. One front wheel goes left, the other goes right, and a back wheel tries to secede from the cart altogether.
  • The Mental Illness Cart. On this model, one wheel has an obsessive-compulsive tendency to pick up every bit of thread, string, dental floss, and barbed wire that lays on the floor of the store. (What, your StuffMart doesn't have barbed wire laying around? How do ya'll keep your tailgates fastened to your trucks?) All this twine is then wrapped around the wheel's axle, thereby causing the wheel to rotate at half the speed of the other three wheels, which then creates a paranoia state for the OCD wheel, which then tries to commit hari-kari by twisting sideways in an attempt to get kicked to death by the shopper.
  • The Two-Year-Old Cart. A toddler-like wheel stubbornly will. not. move. at. all. And if you force it, it screams bloody murder.
  • The Microbiology Experiment Cart. (A must-have in a community with a lot of homeschoolers.) You think those letters on the shopping cart handle are imprinted? Think again. That's 80 trillion organized bacteria. "C'mon, guys. Everybody get in formation, like rocks on a beach. We'll spell out StuffMart on the handle, and then watch the flu party get started! Yee haw!"
  • The ADD Cart. You roll this one out to your car, and in the 2.5 seconds it takes you to open the trunk, the cart has drifted 10 feet away and is about to smash into the side of a BMW belonging to the police chief's wife.
And while I'm thinking about shopping carts, I also want to say that every StuffMart should install a Cart Wash operation at the entrance to the store. You know, like a car wash. First, the hot, soapy water wash. Then the cart passes through a bleach rinse. Then an alcohol spray, and finally, an ultraviolet light drying period. I believe that if these steps are followed, we can eradicate measles, mumps, chicken pox, the common cold, and possibly even Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever in our lifetime. In some cases, it might also be necessary to force the shopper through the Cart Wash as well, but this is the price we have to pay for good community health.

And now I must go answer an email I received from my memory-impaired mother. She said something about a chimp, a can of sliced peaches, and Ron Paul. Either that synthetic telepathy thing is on the fritz, or she just got home from StuffMart.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Another one of those little gaps in our homeschool curriculum

This morning, Danger Boy was relating what he learned at a church youth program last night.

"The pastor was talking about when the apostle John denied Christ three times. And then, later in his life, John was circumcised. Or crucified. Or something like that."

Thank God this child isn't planning a career as a pediatrician. His practice would go downhill faster than a fat kid in silicone snow pants, the first time he asked some new parents, "Do you plan to have your son crucified?" And there's not enough malpractice insurance in the world to cover a doctor's note that reads, "Patient was crucified after the administration of a local anesthetic."