Childhood Pleasures Unseen
The Barbie Graveyard
March 29, 2004
People come in and out our lives - sometimes for an instant, often for a stay. Business
networking events, parties, weddings and the occasional drag show can all bring new folks
into your circle. But after all the how-do-you-dos are out of the way, what more is there
to know? Choice of profession is a standard query. Favorite color? Boring, yet sometimes
of interest. The standard urbanite size-up "where are you from" usually makes the top of the list.
However, I think it's better to zero in on what's most important:
What kind of Barbie pervert are you?
Even if you didn't own a Barbie or generic derivative, you had access to them: your friend's
sister, that neighbor kid who had every toy on the fucking planet, cousin, babysitter, someone
had one that you stripped and sodomized in your own subversive Barbie alter-universe.
I still can't pick up a doll - any doll - and not check to see what's underneath those
clothes. No disrespect to the 5-year old Malaysian girl who toiled to make the miniature
Gaultier ensem Barbie is dying to wear...but that shit is coming OFF if I have my way.
What perfect plastic mounds of nipple-less breasts, what smooth nothing of a nether-region. Even
back in 1959 Mattel saw the writing on the wall: one day women will have hard, fake,
unbelievably huge boobies and hairless anorexic vaginas. Barbie: the American woman's Nostradamus.
Before moving on, I want to briefly address Barbie's corporately-assigned other half. Ken got
very little action at my house. What smart eight-year-old gave him the time of day? He was
equipped only with a vague lump and an insipient smile. Ken's need for acceptance forced
him to turn to someone who understood this disturbing lack of serviceable
genitalia. Always meant to be a groupie, Ken's love affair with Derek, the misunderstood,
fashion-impaired Barbie & the Rockers bassist, filled the void where Ken's penis should have
been. Poor sad Derek in his skinny tie and purple lamé cumber bund. He was cursed with the trappings
of painted-on, plastic fruit of the looms. There was no way he could be a player in my
continuously unfolding Barbie sex drama if I couldn't even PRETEND he was naked. Life was
simple for the boys: long walks by the interstate, solace in the writings of Hemingway and the
dog track. An infrequent enema always got things going again.
Male homoeroticism was never my specialty anyway. On to the good stuff.
Love in an Elevator Barbie
Ahh, the Barbie Town House with its pull-string elevator. It provided reliable service to all floors
within Barbie's Villa of Sin. Less posh than the Dream House (i.e. the cheaper way for parents to
appease their Barbie-frenzied children),the Town House boasted three full floors set against a
cardboard background, each which was always ready for hot Barbie-on-Your Choice action.
The ground floor housed the kitchen - complete with dinette, sideboard and bone china settings. Once
when Ken had a fight with Derek he smashed all the wine glasses in the house. Barbie still
couldn't walk barefoot for fear of lacerations - even when she walked on tip toes. A few more
pulls brought you to the second level where a cozy pink living room greeted her guests. I
recall there was usually a pile of uncut Colombian on the coffee table. Pull. Stepping out of
the elevator on to the third floor swept one directly into Barbie's private boudoir. Luxurious
butterfly print polyester sheets beckoned, while the lilac scent of Feminine Deodorant Spray hung
lightly in the air, fogging up her reflection in the vanity mirror...but I'm veering off topic.
Back to the elevator.
Barbie, ever the contortionist, was quite adept at handstands, standing splits and a crowd-pleasing
back bend. Was Steven Tyler inspired by such innovative toy development? Back in 83', did he
watch little Liv hoist Barbie higher higher up through the Town House - legs and arms sticking all
akimbo from the moving lift? Sources tell me that, shaking himself out of a smack stupor, he
tentatively put pen to paper..."love in an elevator...living it up when I'm going dow-ow-ow-OOOOwwwOOOn..."
"Eureka! He screamed. I've found the path to self ablution!"
Thanks Barbie! Another job well done!
Shower Sex Barbie
The Barbie Dream Pool - complete with a working shower. Thoughts of this cherished
present still make my eyes glaze over thinking about the possibilities. Barbie & her
friends wiled the days away scampering up the ladder and - whee! - down the slide into the
water. As dusk neared, appetites for water-basketball and Marco Polo soon waned in favor of something
more carnal. Having mastered stand-up intercourse in her Town House elevator, it was only natural for
Barbie to entertain her friends and associates in the pool's adjacent shower facilities. Always
innovative, Mattel built in a pump so YOU could control the level of Barbie's wetness. Never a dirty
girl in the literal sense, Barbie made sure that everyone left clean as a whistle.
Backseat of Pink Corvette Barbie
The vinyl interior cleans up in a snap. Next.
Kinky Camper Barbie
A camper van is another story. The only thing this little beaut is missing is a tear drop
window & a frolicking deer mural on the side. But this is Barbieland don't forget - one must
settle for flowers & rainbows & happy shit 100% of the time.
Look at all the head room! This has got to be a Dodge if I ever saw one! A camping trip was one
of the rare occasions where Barbie thought fit to bring Ken along. Someone needed to chop fire wood
and empty the septic tank.
If you look closely, you can faintly make out the customized harness and cat o' nine tails collection
favored by Malibu Barbie. Surfing, boogie boarding and bondage all come with the territory.
She made Ken wait outside in the desert.
Barbie & Prince
I'm not referring to Raspberry Berets and Little Red Corvettes. (In Barbieland, anything that ain't
pink stinks.) Barbie had been on the road quite a bit - what with her camper van excursions. It's
time for the old girl to settle down a little and try her hand at a more domesticated life
style. What better way, than to seek out some canine companionship. Enter Prince, the ever-pleasing
white poodle. If my recollection serves correct, Prince was bigger than her car and could not fit
into the doorway of the Dream House. Never mind the Town House elevator. Prince's appeal outshone
Ken's in several ways: he had a stroke-able silky coat that Barbie could braid & pet, his brain
was larger than a walnut and only he knew where she kept the hot dogs.
A Barbie perversion chronicle is not complete without at least touching upon the young nubile body
of Barbie's little sister Skipper.
My Teen Workout Skipper came in a pink leotard with pink & blue tights. She may have had tiny
hand and ankle weights but don't hold me to that. Someone down at Mattel was inspired by the whole
Jazzercise Richard Simmons thing and had to immortalize the movement forever in a tough little
plastic bitch named Skipper. I'm sure another consideration was keeping up with the L.A. Gear
merchandise boom. One thing's for certain: the crotch of her leotard was VERY flimsy. I really
can't say it's my fault that one day the whole thing just gave out - providing free access for all
the grown-up Barbies and their friends to the little hussy-in-training.
After the gang tired of Skipper's novelty, they ignored her to return to Dream Pool parties and
naked volley ball matches.Skipper soon dropped out of 9th grade and hit the streets,
plying her trade and making quite a name for the crotchless-leotard set. She fell in with
a rough crowd and had the right side of her face cut up with a bottle. With her scalp patchy
in places, she dyed her hair green and caught a nasty strain of syphilis. Mistreated and
disfigured, she returned to her big sister for help. Horrified, Barbie sent her away to Thailand
to live with her old friend Miko. Miko, who had been deported some time ago, swore that
Skipper would be well cared for. It wouldn't be a free ride though: Skipper would
have to work just like everyone else. However, if Skipper turned out to be marketable, Miko
promised to teach her the local version of ping pong.