The ugly side of this Toy Story: Barbie Fight

Yesterday seemed to be going swimmingly, until that one phone call that rubbed me the wrong way. And the three like calls that followed it. What’s up Murphy?

When I got home I started working on my lamp again but nothing felt right. It all seemed to be rubbing me the wrong way.

Multitasking: the root of many evils. While on the phone with a good friend, a not-rub-you-the-wrong-way friend, I thought I’d try pulling the base off of Swimsuit Barbie. And me-oh-my, I broke her feet off. Oops. And so cathartic!

After my conniption subsided, I continued to chat and attempt to separate Busy Gal Barbie from her porcelain base. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but somehow she ended up cut off at the knees. Good thing she was wearing such a cute knee-length skirt.

Laughter begets laughter and before I knew it, Fabulous 40s Barbie was severed at the waist. Her top half fell over and would have rolled off had it not been attached to her bottom half by her faux mink stoll. Hanging by her fur coat. What a sight.

With three broken Barbies on the counter my mood was restored. My colleague thinks this is proof woman are inherently more violent then men. I think we women revel a little in the imperfections of those who seem perfect. This draws us a little closer to perfection ourselves and the idea of perfect is taken down a notch or two. Maybe I’m just returning to my roots of breaking Barbie down.