Craig and Barbie

I inadvertently risked my best friend’s life to make my daughter happy. She picked up a Barbie Dream House that I purchased off Craigslist. I came across an odd post while searching for the Dream House.


What the hell is going on here? If your husband or boyfriend has some and you’re sick of them being around the house… What? Is this a common problem? I can guarantee you I would get rid of that guy before I went online to sell his dolls. The person who posted this ad will settle for Barbie as long as she is dressed like a whore. Don’t you dare try to sell him Teacher Barbie, Veterinarian Barbie or Politician Barbie. He doesn’t want Handicapped Barbie either. The arms and legs must move. I down want to know why either.

Trust has to be earned unless it involves saving money. Then, we will meet a stranger in a dark parking lot in a violent section of town. This particular Barbie Dream House retails for nearly $300 online. It was listed for fifty bucks. Unfortunately, it was an hour drive from my house. My friend lives ten minutes away and agreed to pick it up.

My daughter has several bins of Barbie dolls. It is ridiculous and not my fault. There is a simple explanation for her overindulgence: she is the only granddaughter. However, she rarely played with these dolls because (cue a Sarah McLachlan song) they were homeless. They were living on carpeted streets while Sofia the First, Little People Princesses and the Fisher Price Loving Family lived in the lap of luxury. Even Dora had her own house because, I surmise, her mother and father are in prison for child abandonment.

Ulysses S. Grant bought more than a dream house. I purchased extra chores. I had to pack up toys and re-arrange furniture to make room for the house. The only thing I didn’t move was the book shelf because it is strategically placed to hide a stain. You don’t realize what a slob you are until you move things. Then, it’s impossible to ignore the dust. Did God create dust as another form of punishment for Eve? It wasn’t enough that women bleed for seven days? We also have to vacuum corners.

My daughter and I have played with that house for hours. I love this child with all my heart, but Barbie isn’t as much fun as I remember. I want to play for a few minutes and then I want Barbie to sleep. My boys were capable of playing alone when they were her age. Little girls are so needy and she knows how to lay the guilt on thicker than Lorde’s ankles. I’m talking about the singer and not the man above who apparently spends his time helping professional athletes win games. I am allowed to joke about cankles because I live in that hood. I have (re-cue Sarah McLachlan music) struggled in my life to zip boots or take off skinny jeans.

My daughter doesn’t always ask me to play. She will lower her head, sigh and say, “I just wish I had someone to play with.” Of course, I offer to be her playmate. “You don’t have to.” Then, before I know it, I am begging her to play. She is that good. Girls are needy and bossy. “Now, you say this .” “Now, you do this.” “Put your doll here.” Why the f*ck am I even here if this whole thing is scripted? I blame Craig.

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