So anyway, this post isn’t supposed to be a downer.  I’ve either made you really sad or you’re thinking that I’m a bit off my rocker.   I really just wanted to talk about the dolls you played with growing up.  First I’ll tell you about mine, then you can tell me about yours!  And then we’ll brush each other’s hair and paint our nails with sparkly pink polish!  Won’t this be fun!

I had a giant basket full of Barbies, hitting pay dirt when I got a bunch of hand-me-down Barbies.  One of the inherited Barbies was actually not a Mattel Barbie, but an off-brand Barbie with swivel scalp.  One side was blond and with a simple twist of her scalp you could make her a brunette.  YES, TOTALLY CREEPY.  I always pretended she was evil and trying to steal Barbie’s husband (or boyfriend, depending on that day’s storyline).

Speaking of Barbie’s husband/boyfriend,  I never did have a hunky Ken, I had one with a crazy mess of black hair and Miami Vice like white suit.  He did drive a pretty rad purple Corvette and a giant yellow RV.  So he had that going for him, I can see Barbie’s attraction.

One of my favorite Barbies had to be Skipper, mine even had TAN LINES under her teal bikini!  Hello inappropriate!   I also loved my cowgirl Barbie who wore blue eyeshadow and winked if you pushed a button on her back.  She had a droopy eyelid because of her winking, but I thought it  made her look mysterious.   She looked so beautiful in her fringed black and white cowgirl pantsuit and cowboy boots, with her perfectly feathered bangs.  Really classy!

I used to love giving my Barbies names like Lisa, Tracy, Belinda, or Sonja with a “j”.  They were always taking turns  kissing and laying under the covers with Ken and then getting pregnant.  On a possibly related note, I watched a lot of General Hospital growing up.

As much as I loved Barbie and all her (s)e(x)scapades with Ken and Skipper and the evil lady with two-tone hair, I also loved my Cabbage Patch Kids.  I’m pretty sure that neither of my CPKs were acquired after a long wait in an elbow stabby line or for an inflated price.  Their names were Deidre Aggie and Karin Dodi.  I never changed their names because it just seemed wrong to me since that what was written on their birth certificates.  The claim that you could change their names and get a new birth certificate by notifying Xavier Roberts or one of his minions at the Cabbage Patch Hospital seemed like a shady deal.  I didn’t want to risk a name change for my girls and then have no PROOF of their actual name.  (My loathing and mistrust of red tape and bureaucracies obviously started at an early age.)   Also, Deidre and Karin were actually pretty good names considering some of the atrocious names given to my friends’ CPKs.

I really loved the whole romanticism behind CPKs and how they came from a “real” hospital and that you “really” adopted them.  Children from a cabbage patch!  So that’s where babies come from!

I do still keep in touch with one of my dolls.  Technically Lillian is a Puffalump.  She sat on my bed until I got married.  Now Lillian lives in Ella’s room where I like to think of her as the Woody of Ella’s toys.

I could never put her in a donation box and abandon her!

©2012 Playgroups are No Place For Children. All Rights Reserved.

First celebrity obsession crush: Michael Jackson in his Thriller and sequined glove days.

First dog: Sugar. The poor little thing died of parvo.

First memory of being jealous: The babysitters up the street LOVED my friend and would carry her around on their hips. They never carried me.

First time eating a cherry tomato: I bit right into it and squirted tomato juice all over my mom in a fancy restaurant.

First kiss: Some boy in my afternoon kindergarten class.

First sleepover: At Amy Allred’s. She went to bed at the unholy hour of 8:00. I ended up sleeping in bed with her mom while her dad slept on the couch.

First time attending Sunday School: I was warned I’d go to hell if I didn’t start going to church. I was maybe 7 years old.

First roller coaster ride: Bell’s in Tulsa, OK. TERRIFYING.

First favorite brand name: Ocean Pacific

First pair of Guess Jeans: 6th grade. I was the only one who had a pair, but had no idea that they were “cool.”

First huge misunderstanding: The hairdresser understood my request to cut my hair to my shoulders to mean, cut my hair to make me look like a boy.

First time being mistaken for a boy: A few weeks after my horrifying hair event, at the Skating Rink after I’d won a game of Red Light, Green Light. “Congratulations to the boy in the blue sweater.”

First huge disappointment: Not even making it past the first round of cheerleader tryouts in 7th grade.

First big family vacation: Walt Disney World and Clearwater Beach, FL (also, only big family vacation)

First heartbreak: 8th grade, “Bob.” Not his real name.

First stay in the hospital: 8th grade, I had my appendix removed. Completely unrelated to the aforementioned heartbreak.

First car: Blue 1987 Chevy Nova with bad paint. Also smelled of cigars. I adored that car.

First job: Lifeguard

First paycheck: Around $25. I felt a little cheated thanks to the government.

First promotion: Still waiting

First apartment: Freshman year, Briarwood Apartments in Springfield, MO. We had gold shag carpeting.

First blog not on Myspace: What I Meant to Say Was… (R.I.P November 2006-November 2006)

First baby: Carson

First daughter: Ella

First husband: Tate (and last.) (Yes, really.)

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Hey, I know it’s NaBloPoMo and maybe you’re like me and starting to run a little dry on topics. Feel free to post your own “Firsts” and leave me your link. I’d love to hear about yours.

©2012 Playgroups are No Place For Children. All Rights Reserved.

Here are their stories, at least my version.

The mother is sitting at the end of a row.  She looks prematurely weary and frazzled.  In her lap, she holds her pink yarn and needles, squinting and pushing her overgrown bangs behind her ear as she works.  An elderly woman sitting in front of her asks her what she’s making and the mother makes polite conversation back and replies that it’s a blanket.  Several times as she’s chatting with the elderly woman, she has to stop her knitting to glare and point at the seat where her two obviously bored young sons are supposed to be sitting while waiting for their plane to take off.  The boys father is sitting on the opposite side of the them, but is deep in conversation on his cell phone while silently cursing the lack of Wi-fi.  Occasionally he offers a terse “shh” to the boys.

I wonder if the mother of the boys is as irritated as I am that her husband is paying no attention to the boys and completely unable to let go of work now that they’re finally on vacation.  I especially wonder why she’s knitting a pink blanket.

The elderly woman reminds me of a spy.  She is wearing very mod white plastic sunglasses and is oddly proficient with her cell phone.  After taking her seat four down from my own, she makes her first call, speaking in a thick accent.  All I hear her say is, “I can’t talk long, but…”  

It was an odd couple walking swiftly out of the food court area.  She, tall and statuesque, dressed in obviously expensive clothes reminded me of a model.  Her hair was perfectly colored and styled, along with her nails.  Along side her walked her husband.  Perched atop two bird legs, his large round belly rested.  He was short and bald, yet strutted like a cowboy, proud.

Speaking of cowboys, why were there so many men wearing cowboy hats in the Las Vegas airport.  Were they all traveling to a cowboy convention?    A rodeo?  A renowned large belt-buckle maker?  A Wrangler’s jeans museum?

Across the aisle and with their backs to me, sat two menopausal women fanning themselves with copies of their itineraries.  They were chatting back and forth about this year’s cherry harvest.  Each one had a better story as to what farmers’ market they’d gotten their prized purchases.  One woman told the other she needn’t worry about going in the heat to the year’s remaining farmers’ markets because Carla’s husband was the produce manager at Kroger.  He could “hook her up.”

The preteen girl desperately tried to look cool and disappear all at the same time.  Her pimply face was covered in shine, and when she smiled, you could only see a mouthful of braces.

The other preteen girl had a blue mohawk and skeleton appliques on her jean jacket with it’s arms purposely cut off and frayed.

In front of me, two Asian women and a man sat facing me.  Each woman was dressed oddly.  One had white crocheted biker gloves, black panty hose, pristine white tennis shoes, a wide brimmed plastic visor, and a sequined (silver) Calvin Klein shirt.  The man had wiry salt-and-pepper hair and he wore wrinkled khaki pants and a blue oxford shirt with it’s sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  They sat and ate their lunches, bite by bite, in silence.  

©2012 Playgroups are No Place For Children. All Rights Reserved.

Who is Your Ideal TV Boyfriend?

Woo hoo! He’s my new boyfriend!

What? You say I’m married?? Well after Tate’s insistence on being the LOUDEST man ever and waking up Ella at 1 AM and again at 5:30 AM, he is on THE LIST. Oh you KNOW what list I’m talking about.

I think Jim will be a great and QUIET boyfriend.

(Thanks to Puntabulous for giving me the idea to take this fun quiz…now YOU go take it and tell me who your TV boyfriend is!)

©2012 Playgroups are No Place For Children. All Rights Reserved.

Wha?  Uh.  Where did that come from????  That’s not mine!  Nooooo.

Boy bands?  Ugh.  I don’t even like boys bands.

*nervous laughter*

Oh my goodness!  Another one???!!!  Why I never!

*nervous laughter*

Just shut up okay.  Like you don’t have three Backstreet Boys CD’s.  

©2012 Playgroups are No Place For Children. All Rights Reserved.

 It’s not a blog.  It’s HBO.

So I made the huge mistake of showing Carson The Polar Express this weekend and we therefore ended up watching it 37.5 times as a result.  (In all actuality it was only four times, but who’s counting?  Oh wait.  I’m counting.)  “Watch black steam engine?  Watch black steam engine?  Watch black steam engine?”  Shoot me.

In our discussion the other day of Christmas movies, I noticed that none of you mentioned The Polar Express.  I suspect that this is because it is a creepy-ass movie.  Am I right?  While I do think it’s a cute story, there are a lot of things about the movie that are just….ick.  Let’s analyze, shall we?  I’ve compiled my thoughts in handy outline form for easy studying.

I.  The animation
     A.  The character’s teeth. 
           1.  Bluish  (Does anyone have naturally bluish teeth or am I missing something?)
           2.  At one point the little girl’s teeth look as if they aren’t even a part of her mouth, like they’re dentures.
     B.  The character’s awkward movements
           1.  They look really scary

II.  The old-timey Christmas music
       A.  Sounds like something out of a horror flick, not something suitable for a kids movie
       B.  The part where the kid finally hears the bell,  a demonic version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town is playing.

III.  The weird hobo guy on the top of the train
        A.  What the f*ck?
        B.  Who was he and why the hell did this character even exist?

IV.  The conductor
        A.  He’s sort of mean and intimidating.
        B.  Luckily softens and becomes slightly more likeable as the movie goes on.

V.  The train ride
      A.  Like a roller coaster
      B.  Only not fun AT ALL.

VI.  The elves
        A.  One of them looks like Steven Tyler from Aerosmith.
              1.  This is not at all how I picture elves.
        B.  They have creepy voices and seem shady
              1.  One of them says, “Trust me,”  and all I can think is that this elf’s name must be Chester Molester.

Feel free to use my notes.

Pop quiz this week.

©2012 Playgroups are No Place For Children. All Rights Reserved.

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Also, if you are a subscriber, let me know if my new address didn’t update for you.  I tried to fix it so that you didn’t have to re-subscribe. 

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I was shocked by the number of you who mentioned how quickly this new site loaded.   My old site loaded just fine on my computer so I was unaware that this problem was rampant.  Only tommiehad let me know that she had trouble accessing my site.  The rest of you never told me!  How can we have a relationship if you’re not honest with me and tell me your troubles??!!   Please tell me if you ever have trouble again.  I’m trying to keep my sidebars a little less “junky” so that should help. 

Thanks for sticking with me, even when my site was loading slowly for you. 

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So now that I’m all moved, would you all mind updating your blogrolls?  I know it’s a huge pain in the arse, but when I see my technorati rank is 0, I get hives.

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One of the reasons I wanted to switch to WordPress was so that I could respond to all of your comments.   Apparently I didn’t think this through sufficiently, as I didn’t realize the amount of time it would take to respond to EVERY.  SINGLE.  COMMENT.  Oy.  I’ve only made it through about half of the comments on my last post.  Soooooo, I’ll respond as I can, but it won’t be to EVERY.  SINGLE.  COMMENT.

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What’s that saying about beating a dead horse?  Anyway, I guess I’m going to have to break down and watch The Sound of Music and Braveheart.  You all have made me feel like I’m missing something.  I hate the thought that I’m somehow out of the loop.   Also, I couldn’t believe the number of you who said you hated/despised/loathed It’s a Wonderful Life!  Wow.  Just wow.   It’s one of my favorite Christmas movies, “every time a bell rings an angel gets it’s wings!”  Ahhh. 

So here’s the pressing question of the day, What is your favorite Christmas movie?  Mine is not technically a Christmas movie, I suppose, but it’s set at Christmas time…Love Actually.  Not only is this my favorite “Christmas” movie, it’s my favorite movie of all time and eternity.  If you don’t like this movie, I think we should reconsider our friendship. Just kidding.  Sort of.  Not really.

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I promise that one of these days I’ll be back to posting with real content.  Not just movie discussions.  Thanks for playing along, though.

©2012 Playgroups are No Place For Children. All Rights Reserved.

Hey you!  Don’t put your drink down in my sidebars!  You’ll leave a ring.

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I read this post by kellyo75 last week and she admitted to having never seen Say Anything.

I’ll pause for a moment while you regain your composure. Breathe deeply. Deeeeeply. In. And out.  In.  And out.  Atta girl. I’m not certain how that’s possible either to not have seen Say Anything.

Feeling better now? Good.

While I can’t imagine life not knowing the quirkiness that is Lloyd Dobler, I can appreciate that not all people have seen the movies that I find to be quite enjoyable. With that said, I hope that I won’t cause more hyperventilation when I confess that I’ve never seen The Sound of Music. Really. In fact, I have very little desire to see it. I’m just not that into musicals.

“The hills are alive with the sound of music….” blah, blah, blah.

Also, I’ve never seen Braveheart. You know, the bloody painted faces and Mel Gibson flick. I assume that this won’t cause you to lose sleep, but I just thought I’d mention it since my husband finds it unbelievable that this is a movie I’ve never seen.

Thinking about these movies I haven’t seen made me start reflecting  on overrated movies.  *stares inquisitively while tapping chin with index finger* Here is my pick for the most overrated movie ever…and the award goes to….

There’s Something About Mary.

*uses index finger to fake gagging*

“There’s something about paying hard earned money to sit and watch that turd of a movie” is more like it.

*more gagging*

I remember sitting in the theatre, after having heard that it was THE FUNNIEST MOVIE EVER!, and thinking to myself that I wanted to leave or gouge my eyes out. But since I’d paid, I stayed (and left my eyes alone), hoping against hope that the movie would improve. It didn’t.

I feel the same way about those Meet the Parents movie.

*barforama*

I guess I’m just not that into Ben Stiller.

So let’s get to the discussion, what movies haven’t you seen that everyone else in the entire world (including Lichtenstein) has seen? OR!!! Even better…what movies have you seen and wish that you hadn’t? (I hear Knocked Up is as good as There’s Something About Mary…anyone? Anyone??)

Discuss.

©2012 Playgroups are No Place For Children. All Rights Reserved.

All of these posts got me thinking about what my name would have been had I been a boy. I’m pretty sure I would have been Shawn Scott. Blech. Not the greatest combination of names in my opinion. I like the names individually, but not paired together. Also, I prefer Shawn to be spelled S-E-A-N. My brother, had he been a girl, would have been Elizabeth Lane, Beth for short. I think it’s interesting that my parents didn’t keep the name Shawn Scott and bestow it upon my brother. Of course, when Ella was born, I didn’t keep the girl name we’d chosen if Carson would have been a girl (Emeline Siobhan).

What would your name have been had you been the other gender? What names would your children have been had they been the other gender? Did you use the other name chosen for your first child when your second (or third, fourth….) was born?

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By the way this is my 301st post and sometime in November was my one year blogiversary. It’s hard to say the exact date since I deleted lots of my original posts and pre-dated others.

I appreciate all of you out there in BlogLand and credit you with helping me feel like “me” again.

©2012 Playgroups are No Place For Children. All Rights Reserved.

In between laundry, house cleaning, going through a weeks worth of emails, and deprogramming my children’s new found belief that there is always someone available to play with them, I’ll do my best to read a few blogs and attempt to catch up.

In the event that in the past week you’ve written an unbelievable, earth-shattering post that you are certain I can’t live without reading, leave me the link in the comments so it doesn’t feel the wrath of the “Mark all as read” button.

Thank you and good day.

©2012 Playgroups are No Place For Children. All Rights Reserved.