Thursday, September 22, 2011

The biggest disappointment of my childhood life.

When I was young, my sister & I, we went straight up APE SHIT for Barbie. We had the meanest collection in town, courtesy of Mum & Dad/Santa. Our collection was the pride of our playroom. We had the mint set up & if any dirty fingered whore kids tried to touch our stuff, there would be massive tag team smackdown.

The only thing that ripped my little lady nubs about my Barbie selection, was that my parents would never buy me a Ken doll. My endless requests/well penned letters to Santa for the bronzed plastic perfection that was Ken doll, was denied denied DENIED. And it's not like they couldn't afford it. For whatever reason, they just didn't want me to have it.

Hi Ken. Sorry I could never have you. Blame my Mum.

It seemed so unfair that all my girl Barbies lived such a humble nun-like life with absolutely no dick around. I asked for Ken every god dam birthday & christmas. I got a Barbie car, Barbie four poster bed, Barbie Cane Lounge Furniture (remember this was the 80's) & even a Barbie motherfucking horse. I had an elite bitch pack of about 20 Barbies. But no bloody Ken.

I dreamed of a beautiful Ken/Barbie wedding. It consumed every part of my life..

Ken & Barbie 4 EVA

What made this whole 'no Ken' situation even more hard to bare was that Peter Frosty got a Ken doll for his birthday & waved it around in front of my face like he'd just found a golden willy wonka ticket. Even then, at the age of 9 I wanted to smash him in the scrot sacs so dam hard. First of all, because he was a snotty nosed dickslap & didn't deserve such a wonderful piece of man doll. And secondly, fucking Peter got everything including every my little pony on the shelf.

At some stage during those Barbie lovin years, my Grandparents went away on holiday. Somewhere on a plane far far away. All I cared about is what they were going to bring me back. Every night I went to bed & said a little amen in my head to whothefuckever, that Grandma & Grandad would pretty please bring me back a Ken doll from wherever thank you amen.

I waited. In my 9 year old perception of time, it felt like 1 year to each day that passed. Every day I asked my Mum when they were coming back from their holiday. Of course I missed them but lets not fuck around here, the idea of rad holiday presents consumed me. And I was confident that yes, Ken was coming back in my Grandparents suitcase from wherever they went on their holiday & my prayers would be indeed answered.

The night before they arrived, I was so batshit excited that even if you'd heavily sedated me I wouldn't have been able to sleep. I also may have had a little bit of anxious diahorrea. Shit was about to get real.

When they finally arrived at our house I couldn't even go outside & greet them at the car because I really truely thought I was going to yak my Weetbix all over the place. I was finally about to get my hands on the one thing I had wanted for so long & my tummy spazed up knots.

My sister & I sat on the floor around Grandad & Gradma's feet all wide eyed & peeing in our pants for them to get that suitcase open & show us the goods. We got lollies (yep awesome hurry up with the ken), felt pens & colouring books.......& the piece de resistance (cue shining of lights down from the heavens).......another girl barbie. Airline Barbie to be exact. What. The. Fuck

Now because my parents bought both my sister & I up with impeccable manners, I hugged the shit out of my Gran graciously thanking her for my awesome holiday booty. Even though on the inside I was so upset that all I really wanted to go was get on my red bike & go burn every house down on my street.

I walked the asshole walk of defeat to our playroom & cried angry heartbroken tears. You know I was really trying to be grateful because I loved my Grandparents more than chips (& I loved chips hard), but I was so disappointed. I cried solidly for 2 days & probably did some really naughty shit. I was a serial & avid pincher in my youth. It was my defense tool & my sister got it all.

Eventually, like with all childhood disappointments, I got over it & Airline Barbie got her time in the sun. But before I introduced new Barbie to the bitch clan, I gave her a make over. I cut all her hair off. I decided that if no one was going to buy me a ken doll, I would make my own. Even if he had a big pair bitch tits & was dressed in female flight steward uniform .

Essentially, what I actually unknowingly invented that day, was Transgendered Barbie. But he/she was my fill in Ken, at a time in my life when no one would hook a cuz with the real macoy. And dang y'all that Tranny Ken banged some serious Barbie fanny.

It was at this time I realised that the looney & the anxious poo problems had already begun to manifest itself.

Anyone else out there that would've sold their entire family for a toy?


P.S Welcome to the new fullas & fullessa's that have joined my bad, mad & extremely vulgar world. I will endevour to crack your shit up/make you snort your morning coffee out your nose atleast 3 times a week.

P.P.S Faux Ken & Barbie did end up getting married. And it was awesome, if not a little awkward for the guests that attended. They obviously didn't feel my kiwi ingenuity. Dicks.

P.P.P.S Peter Frosty The Barbie Doll King is now a loud proud gay man. Go figure.


  1. You could have just let them all be lesbians. Who needs Ken anyway?

  2. Maybe the first time in history that a female air hostie (stewardess, flight attendant or whatever the fuck they are now called) transitioned! M-F air hosties are a dime a dozen! F-M though....That is innovation!

    Love your work!

  3. I LOVED Barbie. I had 3 Kens but I had 100 Barbies, so I declared some lesbians, cut their hair, burnt tattoos into the plastic with pins (heated by a match) and pierced their noses. I even dyed one's hair pink.

    The rest had to mud wrestle for Ken's attentions.

    Clearly I had an unusual childhood.

  4. I was obsessed with Transformers toys during the 80's. I could transform every one of them with ninja like speed, and knew more about their backgrounds than my own family, who were most disappointing in their lack ability to transform into anything other than annoying assholes. However the one gaping hole in my collection was Metroplex, a giant transformer city that the other transformers lived in. It had more guns than an Al Quaida terrorist cell and enough secret compartments to smuggle a kilo of heroin through customs. Finally my parents relented, and one birthday finally this amazing nirvana of the toy world became mine. It lasted four days before I became interested in how all its awesomeness worked, and took it apart with a screwdriver. Into all 100,987 parts. Needless to say this was game over for Metroplex. I cried for a week, then took my frustration out in what my sister has ever since referred to as the St.Valentine's Day My Little Pony Massacre.

  5. I was obsessed with Barbie, I even had a milk crate that I took bits of fabric, and revamped over and over into a glorious Barbie manse. Obviously, I was poor, but had an excellent imagination. I played with my Barbies until I was around 13. I had their clothes, shoes, cars, house RV, and LOVED the shit out of them, I had the Rocker Barbies, Western Barbie, hell I had them all. If only things were that simple now!

  6. I presume your family didn't give you the Ken doll because they didn't want you to orchestrate Barbie orgies.

    HAHAHAHA Oh my god, Bex. I was stomping AND laughing when I read this. I admire your creativity on making your own transgendered Barbie. HILARIOUS! :)

  7. My mom would never buy us Barbie because she was a "negative female role model" so she bought us these androgynous "Dixie" dolls. Suffice to say, Dixie was a freakishly tall, mulleted he/she with overalls and cankles. Further suffice to say, it was no great surprise that my sister became a lesbian. I hold Dixie (and my mother) fully accountable.

  8. I had quite a few Barbies growing up. The one I wanted the most was one with the wiry hair and curling iron. Being one of 6 kids, my mom thought it was my sister who was DYING for her. Guess who got the fucking curling iron Barbie. That's right. NOT FUCKING ME. So I cut her hair off when my sister wasn't around. I'm a horrible bitch that way.

    In all fairness, my snotty little sister broke the legs off my Baby Grows Up doll when I was 5 so screw her. :D I'm over it though. Sincerely. I AM!

    PS. I am glad you made Barbie butch. Way to liven up things in the Barbie Dream House!

  9. I love your phrasing. I too loved Barbies and only allowed a very select group of non- "dirty fingered whore kids" to play with them. I also had many Ken dolls. One of them had very loose joints and actual hair, so naturally he was creepy asshole Ken that grossed out Barbie and her 56 other Barbie friends. My sister would constantly put one Barbie or another in "compromising postions" with creepy Ken. She was a bit obsessed with sex from a young age. Here is where I tell you that we were raised catholic.... shocker.

  10. I actually don't recall any of the toys I really needed to have. I remember mum buying this cool doll (that I still have) and I named her Stephanie (yes I'm pretty sure it was after Stephanie out of #5 is alive, can't remember the actual name of the movie) and NO she was not one of those UGLY FUGLY cabbage patch dolls!

  11. I finally got the piano Id been asking for for years when I was 12 unfortunately we couldnt afford lessons to go with it! So it spent the next 8 years in the shed before being thrown off the balcony of the Mot hotel for new years:(

  12. I shared your barbie obsession when I was younger... though since my sister is 7 years older than me .. she outgrew her barbie phase just in time for me to inherit all her awesome barbies... plus.. her 70s ken doll.. complete with greaser black plastic hair and fake skin color underoos.... he looked like John Travolta in Grease... seriously... I kind of wish I hadn't gotten rid of him cuz I have never seen a Ken like him since.

    Be thankful in a way that you didn't have a Ken... ours did things to Barbie that are (I think) illegal in most states.

    no wonder I'm so fucked up.. ;)

  13. I wanted a Ken as well. I had to make do with my bro's GI Joe. He was shorter than Barbie, and had this bit in his back that when pressed, raised his arm. Maybe he was a Nazi GI Joe???

    One of my friends had the Barbie bathroom...complete with functioning bubble bath. Bitch!! I hated her cos she had one and I didn't :)

  14. Great story, Bex! :D

    Kind, sweet, helpful sister that I was, I ironed the hair on my little sister’s favorite Barbie once in an attempt to straighten it. Instead, it got all singed and stank, making her look and smell like Crack House Barbie.

    My sister had been acting like a little shit that day, so I didn’t feel too bad when she started bawling about me ruining her doll.

    Plus, I must admit it made me feel strangely empowered to mar the smug, oh-so-perfect, little Barbie because she made me and my slightly chubby body feel grossly inadequate.

  15. I went one step further than you; when I received my 'disappointment Barbie' in lieu of a Ken Doll, I chopped her little barbie boobs off as well as her hair. Then she/he could make love 'properly' to my other Barbies, their boobs slotted into her/his chest holes perfectly. I'm suprised I'm not a psycho. Although I am now gay so maybe I never got the hetro mating thing.


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