Anyway, by the afternoon, my across-the-street neighbor, Annie Sanders wanted to come check out my booty and I was all too happy to show it off. While I was busy in the living room playing with Suntan TuesdayTaylor, Annie Sanders, was off entertaining herself with 'the head' at the kitchen table - the only place make-up would be allowed in this house, young lady.
Except that when I wandered into the breakfast room to find her, what I found was my beloved head, covered in warpaint-like make-up...ummm....gulp...that was fine, she was certainly washable, right? Except, and here is where it got ugly, the little tray of creamy make-ups, the blue, the pink, the purple and even the black, all of the make-up that I would surely be allowed to own - ever - in my childhood (I was correct) were all gone. Gone. Gouged and scraped from their tiny tray until barely a trace of each color remained.
I remember that I first asked her why she did that? I mean sure, she was only eight, capable of doing far more stupid things than a nine year old like me, but why? Why, Annie, why? I thought you knew how I excited I was to get this. And play makeup with you! And sneak makeup on each other instead of the head! But you ruined that. Because you are STUPID and DUMB and you ARE TOTALLY SMELLY AND I HATE YOU. GO HOME NOW!
Well, yeah, Annie Sanders did go straight home, I went straight to my room, and I never saw that head again. The present that never was, boohoo. My stylist career was over before it even had a chance to bloom.
My friend, The Boss of Seattle, has a great Christmas toy story too...
She got a Baby Alive. (That lucky bitch, because my mom would not get it for me after the urban legend(?) of the Baby Alive being found with maggots inside of her.)
If I have to even remind you, Baby Alive was the doll that ate the sugary gel you fixed for her and then pooped it out.
(Ohgod, I think I am a bit in shock because when I just searched for that doll link, I discovered that Baby Alive has been revived. From the dead. Scary.)
Anyway, The Boss got her Baby Alive and played with it so much that the batteries were dead by New Years.
The Boss came home from school her first day back and found that her mom had put Baby Alive in a shoe box. She questioned her mom, who looked at The Boss (who was then called Julie) and sang her a melodic little song:
Baby Dead, cold and blue
She can't eat and she can't poo
And, as The Boss still indignantly declares, "She thought it was funny!"
Well, she has every right to be indignant. But I have to admit, just typing that little song made me snort out loud. I am a bit sick.
Do you have a toy story?