The house was somewhat of a crime scene although, I guess no ‘laws’ had been broken.
Am I wrong for having these thoughts? I know they’re Barbies and I know they are kid’s toys; but, man- take it at face value and it just doesn’t seem right.
When I finally came clean and told my wife that I was having these thoughts, her only response was, “yeah, I get a little worried about the one who falls over into the grill.”
Barbie, what has happened to you? Is it drugs? Alcohol? Simple depression?
I know it probably sounded like a good idea but save the exercise bike for the morning and my God, where were her friends to take her to bed after she passed out?
OK, What the fuck is going on here? Miniature Ken, what the fuck man, get yourself together. Does my daughter need to be seen by a professional?
Yuck, whose clothes are those? Do you even know?
Oh God, please be careful by the stairs. Wait, miniature Mom Barbie who drives the minivan in the dog house? Really?
Dude! Get the fuck up and get out of there. It probably seemed like a good idea last night, but seriously dude, get up and go home.
I know this was a weird post and honestly I don’t sit around and examine the Barbie half-way house all the time but sometimes it catches my eye. When 7 or 8 exquisitely dressed Barbies are strewn about face down, half dressed or in various form in the bathroom, all seemingly conscious and smiling, a guy puts a story to it and a little pride in most men swells when GI Joe has clearly been a part of it.