Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Stolen Toys for Tots

I recently received a nice letter in the comments section of a blog post.
So we haven't seen each other since forever but I still have fond memories of coming over to play barbies (one was always knocked up out of wedlock), a time in 3rd grade when you confessed you wanted to name your children Phyre and Stabronco, and your knack for nicknames like the funky apple (wasn't that your retainer?). I am procrastinating very big right now so I was reading and enjoying your website and decided to say hey. I'm in CT for 2 more months and might try to come see you perform and maybe send in a portrait, too! I hope you're well.

I like hearing from people from my childhood, because I had a good one. Learning was still fun, Jell-O Pudding Pops (original recipe) were still in the freezer section, and my friends had the COOLEST toys. Toys I liked to play with and, when they weren't looking, take home.

Is it wrong when my friends were already spoiled? I was just ridding them of something they already forgot about. Except for one toy. There was one I blatantly took (not Emily's), and it is my Telltale Heart to this day. It was a Barbie computer.

The size of a golf ball, it had tiny buttons that all pressed down at once (because Barbie's fingers don't separate, so why should her keyboard?), and a monitor with green letters that appeared and disappeared as the black screen rolled over them. I still think it's more amazing than an actual computer.

"I like this. Can I have it?"
--No. It's my favorite toy. You can borrow my Barbie Record player. I'll take your butterfly brush.
(swapping)"Okay. It's for My Little Ponies. I REALLY wish I had the COMPUTER..."
--No. Let's go downstairs.

Where is it today? Buried in the basement of the house I grew up in, like a useless Flowbee. I'M SORRY! But that computer was a catalyst for many romantic Barbie moments. So was the record player. And so was anything else.

Hey Emily! I loved playing at your house. Girl Talk dared us to ask your neighbor for t.p. One time I had to go home before I made a signature scent w/ your do-it-yourself perfume kit, and I'm still bummed about it. And I supervised the conception of all Barbie's babies. Oh: the name was NOT Stabronco. Why would I say Stabronco? That's awful. It was Sibronco. Good luck w/ your work in CT. I'd love to see you again!

It's not cool, but it is refreshing: The Jell-O Pudding Pop Petition

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