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~Dialougue With Barbie

Barbie:  Hey little girl, thanks for buying me.

Little Girl: Mommy did.  Is your real name Barbie?

Barbie:  What did you expect, Paris?

Little Girl:  You’re pretty.  Am I gonna look like you when I grow up?

Barbie:  Sure, little girl, if you get your lips pumped up like Angelina Jolie, your chin sliced off, and your face stretched to the Canadian Provinces.

Little Girl: You have nice boobies, Barbie.

Barbie:  Well, I should, little girl, I payed big bucks for ‘um.  You see, people are more interested in your boobies than what you have to say.

Little Girl:  Can I get some?

Barbie:  Sure, why not.  But wait until you’re at least fifteen.  Boys like that. A lot.

Little Girl:  I wanna be skinny like you, Barbie.

Barbie:  You can, little girl!  Drink gallons of water, eat laxatives, (some come in chocolate) and stick your little fingers down your throat.

Little Girl: Wanna play house with me?

Barbie:  Oh, I’ve been playing house for a long time now, little girl.  When you meet a rich man to take care of you, you can play house, too.

Little Girl:  You’re old Barbie, why dont you have a job?

Barbie:   I never went to college because I went to Hollywood instead, and anyhow, little girl, I AM, after all,   Barbie.  And stop calling me old!

Little Girl: Do you still date Ken?

Barbie:  Yeah, sure, Ken and all the other dolls, too. Haven’t you heard of rainbow parties? DUh…

Little Girl:  How come you don’t got no hair down there like mommy does?

Barbie: Well, apparently mommy can’t afford a Brazilian Wax.

Little Girl:  Mommy told me I can be anything I want when I grow up.

Barbie:  That’s true, little girl.  Just look at me.  I strut my little ass around doing absolutely nothing, you know, like Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian, and you idiots pay me for it.  All I need to do is look beautiful and fit into a negative 0.   Oh, by the way, where am I going to live; in my Barbie house, my pink convertible, Ken’s place? 

Little Girl:  I don’t like playing with you anymore, Barbie.  I’m reeeeeeally, reeeeeally booooored. You’re just a piece of yucky plastic.  I’m going to pull your head off and throw you in the garbage can.

Barbie:  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Where shall I go?     What shall I do?

Little Girl:  You’re Barbie.        I’m just a little girl. You figure it out.

Kim's Blogs

My Love Affair With Sex and The City

JANUARY 5, 2010

~~~~I have been known to obsess over things….become addicted to this and that, that and this. 

   What a shocker.

For example,  I wore out my Robin Thicke CD;   my “Immaculate Conception” cassette (yes, cassette)  by Ms. Madonna has unraveled, and I can’t keep chocolate in the house without devouring every last rotten good for nothin’  fabulous piece. 

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