Tag: Posts Inspired from Looking Around My House

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.

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.

Get back to your needlepoint, little starling. Craft, craft, craft…craft, craft, craft.

Reason 1,234,567 I can’t wait until the house is sold: I get to put up all my inappropriate decor.

I don’t have super-awesome stuff like electric chairs or cobras fighting mongooses, but I have plenty of off-kilter things and things that don’t get your house sold that we can’t have out right now (a homemade ALF planter I found at a flea market, Tom likes to display his big ol’ AT-AT from childhood, etc.),

With the rapid reduction of dog rescue work I do, I’ve found time to do things I used to do, like a little bit of crafting.

Over Thanksgiving weekend, I finally got to make what’s been bouncing around in my head for over five years. But, now it has to go in a box, waiting for a time when a cross-stitch inspired by Silence of the Lambs can be displayed in my bathroom without weirding out potential buyers, just regular visitors. So, for now, I will hang it in this blog post to enjoy.

I’m Warning You, Don’t Put a Baby in There

I have some plastic bins from Ikea:

This is a plastic bin from Ikea - put stuff in it.

These bins have my most favorite warning stickers that I’ve actually seen in person:

Ikea is kind enough to show you why you shouldn’t put a baby in the bin if it isn’t small enough to completely fit inside – you can’t stack, which means you can’t maximize baby storage space.

Pop Culture Haiku: John Travolta Tries to Make a Reservation at KFC and US Decides this is Newsworthy.

Dear US magazine,
there’s a special place in hell –
“Finger-lickin’ rude.”

Dear John Travolta,
KFC is not a place
where you need ressies.