Month: December 2011

Meet Kenbie, or Barben. Either name is fine with shim.

My sister and I had lots of Barbies. I got a Ken one year for Christmas. One Ken, with one outfit – black “leather” pants and a white and black cowboy shirt.

For awhile, Ken was the star of his very own Big Love show. He had his choice of the available ladies and he had his way with all of them, I’m sure. But, eventually, Ken broke (probably because of the strain put on his body by a half a dozen horny, busty, career women).

Personally, I would have always chosen a new Barbie over wasting a “gift spot” on another Ken. My sister must have felt the same way, because we never had another Ken. But, Barbie has needs. What’s a girl to do? There was no more Ken, but his one outfit remained.

Enter Kenbie – an old Barbie given a make-under manly haircut, dressed in Ken’s old outfit, and burdened with the task of being the new sheriff in town. She did a fine job until the outfit eventually disintegrated.

This is the outfit she was found wearing when I opened the old Barbie Doll trunk, a 20 year old time capsule.

 

After that, Kenbie was free to truly be shimself – living and keeping on keeping on, dressing in whatever clothes suited shim and courting, well, it was still just all Barbies to choose from, and eventually a Jem.

And, I’m proud to say that my other Barbies never hassled Kenbie for his/her lifestyle choices.

This post is brought to you by Staying at My Mom’s House. Staying at My Mom’s House gives you exclusive access to my old Barbie gender bending experiments.

A Cold is Coming. Set the Place on Fire!

You know what’s strange about catching a simple cold? The fact that my body tries its hardest to convince the germs that it’s a bad real estate investment – too much of a fixer-upper to bother staying. And, of course, every single time, the cold decides it’s too good a deal to pass up.

What this means is that I actually feel worse when my body is fighting it off than when it gives up and lets the cold run its course. That’s not true when I catch something truly shitty like the flu or strep throat, but a simple cold leads to what seems like an overreacting freak-out.

Simple Cold Germs: Can we stay here a couple of days?

My body: Set the place on fire!

SCG: Seriously, it’s just three days or so.. Maybe a runny nose, some fatigue, but for the most part, you’ll still be funcional.

My body: NO! Antibodies – start rapidly stabbing the throat and neck area, everyone to the lower back – jump up and down on the spine, alternate rapidly between freezing and burning up. Make this place unhospitable!

SCG: You guys, there’s no need to do all this, we just need to crash a couple of days, it won’t be that bad.

My body: Turn her inside out! Make her feel like she’s going to have to be replaced with bionic parts!

SCG: How can a female body be such a dick hole? Why won’t you just let us hang out? We’ll leave when we find a new place.

My body: Ugh…so…tired…from…overreacting…don’t have a choice…must let cold stay.

SCG: Why? Why was that so hard? Now she’ll feel sick for five days instead of three. Where’s your bathroom?

My body: Up in the face near the nose.

I’m pretty sure that’s how it works. No, I didn’t study Biology, I majored in English, why do you ask?

 

I’m tired and have a cold, so I’m just going to throw pictures at you and call it a post.

This Christmas it was my turn to get sick. Usually Tom or I get sick, and since last year was a Christmas miracle and neither one of us got sick, this year turned out to be my year.

My brain is being a bitch and won’t put together any kind of logical, linear narrative or post, so here’s a collection of pictures from what I’ve been doing.

We’re spending the week in N.C. with my mom and sister. The drive from Georgia takes about 6 hours, which inevitably means a bathroom break. Last time I was assured at a South Carolina rest stop I wouldn’t be stabbed with a screwdriver. This time, at a gas station, was a sign that reminded me that I was using the bathroom in a gas station:

I love polite toilets.

Then, we went on a walk, and Tom made the observation that the people who lived here must have started having their house painted, then noticed they loved the color of the painter’s tape so much, they switched it up.

And on the walk, both of the dogs kept peeing on red fire hydrants. I boooed at them every time. It’s so cliched and expected. The only saving grace is that we know they aren’t doing it ironically because in real life, there are no doggie hipsters.

BOOOOOOO!

I looked through the photo albums at my mom’s house, as I often do, because I live in the past. I found a picture from the year Santa brought me my Wonder Woman sleeping bag, and I had just found it in the 1983 Sears WishBook on the Wish Book Web:

I also found a picture of me trying to fit in my arms all the Care Bear figures my grandma got me. And I’m sure she rolled her eyes and mentioned how spoiled I was because that’s the kind of grandma she was:

And, this Christmas, Santa left me a nice stash of Nerds to cannibalize:

I hope you all had and are having a happy holiday. And may all of you and your family members come out the other side un-strangled.

Lite-Brite, Lite-Brite, Turn on the Magic of Disappointing Lights

Lite-Brite. I wanted a Lite-Brite so bad when I was a kid but never got one. You could turn on the magic of colored lights with it and my mom didn’t even care. She said she didn’t want to step on all the little lights and then clog the vacuum with them because I wouldn’t clean up after myself. Just because something is true doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get a Lite-Brite.

When we moved when I was 9, our new neighbors had a Lite-Brite. I wouldn’t call the turning on of colored lights “magic,” it was more of a “huh” experience. And, I distinctly remember all of us kids moving on to something else and not cleaning up the Lite Brite.

The Lite-Brite commercials were a miraculous acheivement in advertising:

This commercial is 30 seconds long. The amount of fun you can have with a Lite-Brite is 31 seconds. The euphoria you feel watching the commercial: the lights, “all the things you can do with it,” a birthday party… it all ends right before the crushing realization that this thing, this Lite Brite, is not the end all and be all of everything that is fun and wonderful. And, let’s quickly break down everything they do in this commercial:

– Couple of examples of the template pictures – a clown, a ballerina.
– “Here’s Suzy.” Suzy took the time to make a Lite-Brite sign before she dismembered her family with an ax.
– Two kids, EACH WITH THEIR OWN LITE-BRITE, the little richies, doing more templates
– A little boy makes a good night sign for his absentee father. He has plenty of time to do it because he’s so lonely.
– Someone made a “Happy Birthday” sign with it for some kid’s party. And whomever that poor kid is, they weren’t allowed to blow their own candles out by themselves.

None of these things seem like fun at all when you stop to think about them. It’s the colors and the quick editing. Somehow, they created a commercial that made one of the most boringest things ever (that doesn’t even come with it’s own light bulb and oh-my-god it’s just a fucking light bulb with a shoebox over it) seem like heroin, crack, and candy all rolled into one.

And here’s an older one, I love the lame, generic promise of being able to “make people, animals, things.”

So, my mom never had to vacuum up lite-brite pegs, and I still learned the valuable lesson of something not being as awesome as it seemed. But you know what WAS awesome, that I used over and over again, and loved to no end? Fashion Plates. I may have only worn jeans and t-shirts (still do), but I’ll cobble together an amazing look for a fashion plate. This ad is for versions newer than mine was, and the New Kids on the Block version is hilarious:

Anybody have a Lite-Brite and love it? What other toys crushed your soul after you realized they sucked?

Christmas Craft: Humane Rat’s Nest Ornament

While shopping online, I found this ornament:
source: zulily.com
It’s a ball of “exotic fur” that would go on your Christmas tree because we haven’t found enough things to make out of dead animals.

But, what if you don’t have $36 for whatever the hell that thing is, and want something like it? That’s what I’m here for.

I’ve come up with two humane ways to reproduce this glorious holiday accessory for little to no money. The chinchillas and/or rats will thank you for your willingness to craft equally beautiful hair-related ornaments.

Project 1: I Just Got My Hair Cut Ornament

Supplies: 1. Lint roller   2. Hair

Directions:
1. Go get your hair cut.
2.  Have the following conversation with the nice lady at the salon:
You (bending down with a plastic bag): I’m taking my hair. It’s, uh, for a project.
Lady: Oh! Ok. Is it for your garden?
You: ………………………………………yes.
Pray that you do not open up a conversation about gardens and hair because you kinda heard that once but have no idea about the details of why people put hair in gardens.
3.    Have the hair sit around your house in a bag on the kitchen counter because you are a big procrastinating freak.
4.    Spread hair out onto a white paper towel.
5.    Roll lint roller around in it.
6.    Tie a piece of rope to the convenient hole in the handle.
7.   Voila! You have a festive, humane ornament with goddamn hair on it, just like you always wanted.

Project 2: Celebrity “Hair” Ornament

Supplies: 1. Lint roller    2. Print out of pictures of a celebrity whose hair will work for this project. 3. Optional festive ribbon.

1.    Print out your chosen picture.
2.    Cut out the hair part.

3.    Wrap the hair parts around the lint roller (I also used some tape to really get the look I “wanted”).
4.    Add festive ribbon.
5.    Voila! You now have an ornament that says “I printed out pictures of Donald Trump and stuck them onto a lint roller.”

You could also achieve the same effect with your pet’s hair if you have enough of it. Or, you could find some roadkill and attach a festive ribbon to it. However you do it, the end result will be that you didn’t spend $36 on a ball of hair, and that to me, is the very essence of what the holidays are all about.