Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Imaginary baby

Let's play imaginary baby. She, she's a a girl, really really wants a Barbie. Where have you gone wrong? Maybe it's the adorable wardrobe you've been dressing her in all the time. Maybe she's just internalizing the vanity she sees in you, you being her primary role model. In any case, she's six, and she wants a Barbie. Can she have it for Christmas?

I don't particularly love Christmas. Thanksgiving yes. A holiday designed around excessive amounts of food and a re-imagined slaughter. And tryptophan. So much good food. I love Thanksgiving.

But Christmas feels foreign, I was just telling my co-worker in the bathroom... it's not exactly because I'm Jewish, although that may figure, because we celebrated it, both families, one way or another... I guess getting presents just felt weird... and the kids in Ptown used to behave worse on Christmas than any other day... I don't know, Christmas was strange.

But I remember such elation the year I finally got Working Girl Barbie.

The thing about this is that Working Girl Barbie was a whore -- HER DESK TURNED INTO A BED. HER SUIT TURNED INTO A SEQUIN MINI DRESS.

I would get imaginary baby a microscope. Really. She can have a whore dress of her own when she's whoring age.

Glad I solved imaginary baby dilemma. Back to the filing.

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