ŁA92

By: Adrienne

I had stumbled through the doorway at exactly 11:05PM from a job that I was supposed to have left by nine. And with me I carried bags under my eyes, bags that I've actually remembered seeing some lucky contestant win on the "PRICE IS RIGHT", right before she won..." this FABBULOUSS trip for two to Tahiti!!". Exactly in that order. Finally, finally, finally I get to....why! I get to start my Term Paper for Religion!(you see the essence of this bit here is to illustrate that Big Bertha from La-la land who thinks that a 'high school' is a kindergarten class room at the top of a hill, and has never held a job in her life proven by the fact that she has seen every episode of the "PRICE IS RIGHT" since the show aired in 1962 wins an all expensed paid vacation to Tahiti-and myself a bright, well mannered, educated, hard-working person gets to slave away at a minimum wage job that will absolutely take her nowhere, except maybe to another slavish minimum wage job AND (ah-gasp! there's more!) also attends a high-school with a full schedule and still keeps a low ninety's average wins "this FABBULOUSS assignment to write a TERM PAPER-at least four pages on the topic chosen by our panel of judges-thank you please take your seat and have a nice day, we've gotta make room for Big Bertha up here!")

Ah, yes, that Religion Term Paper-the one that's due a day before the four page (typed-double spaced) Book Report for English-yup, the English paper that's due right before the Psychology paper-that's due right after your Financial Aid papers-that's due after those College Applications-that's due on the fourth equinox of the moon-that's due right before the birth of your first born son-that your going to have to sacrifice to the Term Paper God "Jajungga" in order to get any of this done!!! Oh, and did I mention that the official sacrifice must be made right before the Psychology paper-and no later than the Financial Aid paper? And this is if you AREN'T holding down at least a part time job.

But I digress, where was I? Oh, stumbling in-ok. And I stumble into my house having a Term Paper to look forward to...(and now your saying: "well why didn't you do the term paper before?" and I'll tell you why-because I've been stumbling to my house like this every night for the past four months! By the time I'd finish the regular assignments it would be 2,so that left me three hours to either bath and sleep, or start doing the term paper and smell the next day in school- so na na naa).But I suck it up-or what's left of it anyway after five months of sleep deprivation and wrote the paper. A really sucky paper, but a paper. A paper that will probably become lost like my last English paper, but I had the satisfaction of knowing that this paper was DONE and that I'd probably have to do it over again.

It was then 1:40,which meant I was a whole twenty minutes ahead of schedule. My mind swirled with the possibilities-a whole twenty minutes-wow! What was I going to do with it! And after a period of struggle I decided: I was going to sit my big behind in the lazy-boy chair and enjoy every darn second of it! Every second, that is until my mother woke up and found me sprawled out comfortably.

She looked at me, then looked at the clock, then looked at me...and I knew I was in-for-it.

"Well, well, well, Adrienne Marie Arno..."

And you KNOW you've done something wrong when they use your full name.

"Just look at you, all comfy and cozy, keeping everyone awake... why you just have the life of Riley don't you??"

Now, for many of you(the lucky ones)this speech maybe new. So I'll tell you, when someone say's 'you've got the life of Riley' they mean that you have it real easy without any work what so ever. It's an Irish saying and I do believe that a bunch of drunk Irishmen came up with this saying one evening in the local pub while trying to think of something clever to say. Weather or not this Riley fellow really existed remains to be seen, but it sound much better that the traditional 'oh, go suck your ale' or 'oh, go kiss your mother's blarney stone' come back line.

Yet needless to say-this remark upset me. So much so that it caused me to retort with the words: "Oh, go suck your ale!" -NO-no, that's not what I really said. If I had really said that I wouldn't have any fingers left to type this with. What I really said was: "Mother I WISH I had the life of Riley!" and thus was promptly sent to my room to think about what I had just done. And me, the sleep depraved baggie eyed idiot that I am-did. And this is what I managed to come up with-I managed the conclusion that I didn't want the life of Riley, what I wanted was the life of a strong, independent, respected, working woman-who still had time to shop. What I wanted was the life of...of...of... BARBIE!!! Yes!! It was Barbie that I longed to be!

Oh, to be like Barbie. To be tall, and thin, to have long flowing stylible blond hair, to have those perky blue eyes with that artificial twinkle in them, to have feet so curved that the only shoes you can possibly wear are eight inch heels to keep from toppling over, to have a chest that is so un-proportional to the rest of your body that it defies the law of gravity that you can even stand. Why I could be an actress, a model, even (dare I say it) I could even be a cheerleader!(with the right sports bra of course). I wish I would have been made with arms that can't bend and a waist small enough to fit between jail cell bars.(You realize don't you-that there never was a "Jail-Break" Barbie due to the fact that Barbie's waist was small enough to fit between the bars-but that darn chest was a problem!) Why God? Why couldn't I be shaped like my long time friend and girl-hood idol? WHY?

Barbie had a Dream-house. A home with at-least three spacious stories with each story accessible by an elevator that whisked Barbie her wonderful perky self to where ever in the dream house she wanted to go. And this was no common elevator-may I remind you-Barbie's elevator had no buttons! No controls what so ever. Obviously she was too worried about breaking one of her Barbie nails on one of those nasty buttons-so she had a special control-less elevator designed just for her some where deep in her Barbie labs. And in these Barbie labs thousand of immigrant workers slave away under the nuclear scientists that create all the fun Barbie stuff that she owns. And this elevator-why it's spectacular! It works like this: Barbie steps into the elevator (which consequently has no door either)thinks about where she wants to be and-poof!- she's there! It's a telepathic elevator! I always use to wonder why the folks creating this Barbie stuff didn't work for our government! Why Barbie could rule the WORLD with that kind of technology at her finger tips!

To top off the House of wonders she possesses, Barbie owns a number of other phenomenal things. Like the Barbie corvette! The man who created this vehicle I am soully sure worked on our space program in the past-how else can you explain this kind of advanced gadgetry! You see this car is special because-YOU DON'T NEED ANY HANDS TO DRIVE IT!!! I've never seen anything like it. Barbie jumps into the front seat(she has to jump-the car has no opening doors. The doors are merely painted on the side to give the illusion of doors.) I'm sure this has some great and relevant importance in the grand Barbie scheme of things.

I've always wanted to see Barbie get pulled over for speeding, or illegal smuggling say of...Jack Daniel's or something to that effect, the Policeman Ken would pull her over (Ken of course would be riding a horse because there is no such thing as the Ken corvette.)and the scenario would go something like this:

"Would you step out of the car please mam'"

"I can't"

"And why is that mam'"

"Well," Barbie would begin in her nasty voice, "you idiot in the first place the car has no doors! it's only the illusion of doors that your seeing."

And then cop Ken would lean over and examine the door with great scrutiny then murmur:

"That's right 0oh and ah, and second of all I'M Barbie, and this is my Barbie road, in my Barbie wilderness, in my Barbie suburb, in my Barbie county, in my Barbie state, in my Barb..."

"Uh, o.k. ,o.k.-I get the picture..."

"AND I'm not finished yet! Then finally I cannot get out of the car because I don't bend that way-but I can make my head spin all the way around like in the Exorcist, wanna see?"

"Uh-no, I'm going to go now." And cop Ken spins and runs back to his car like a bat outta hell. Because he had this eerie feeling that he was going to see this wacko again.)Anyway-she jumps into the front seat and...puts her hands at her side! Even if she extended her arms-it wouldn't matter, those babies shoot right past the steering wheel an through the window! Because, you see, Barbie also has no joints in her elbows (she claims it is a sign of evolutionary advancement-but sometimes I wonder).

What I wanna know is-Where is she getting all this money from....hmmm?

I mean-she obviously can't hold down a job! One day she's Doctor Barbie with her cute little stethoscope, the next day she's stewardess Barbie complete with cheesy plastic wings and a bag of peanuts. Does any body wonder about this? Then she's Army Barbie in cammies with a machine gun-but obviously the cammies didn't clash with her skin tone because the next day she's metamorphisized into Railway conductor Barbie, then to Bay Watch Barbie-but the pension benefits must have stunk because the next morning she's Home-Shoppin-Network-Host-Barbie. And this vicious cycle goes on and on!(What I'm waiting to see is the Miserable-Scum sucking-Cashier Barbie-because she's gonna run out of other occupations eventually. I mean after Pottery-Wheel-Makin-Barbie where else can you go?).

So, the question is-where's all the cash coming from? Parents? Don't think so-have you ever heard of a Mr. and Mrs. Parent Barbie?? Didn't think so. So it obvious Barbie had her parents knocked off so they wouldn't ruin her image(after all who wants In-Law Barbie?). And she can't keep a job long enough to save her life...and if she does get a job-do we ever really she her working? No. The extent of Barbie's days are getting up, riding on her telepathic elevator, changing cloths 12 times(at least),riding around in the corvette that you don't have to steer, and attending parties, dinners, brunches, circumcisions, things like that. And for the longest time Barbie's only company was a weird guy named Ken-who seemed to have multiple personalities. So I figured for the longest time-it was prostitution.

How else would you explain it? Ken is always smiling when he comes to Barbie's house-and he's always smiling when he leaves...what would you call it?? And it seemed to me that if Barbie wasn't out shopping or going up and down on her elevator-she was with this Ken creep.

So prostitution-that had to be it! How else can a girl make that much money and still have time to switch jobs everyday and style her hair? Of course this theory was blown to bits when one day while Ken was changing in the Barbie Shower Room-I happened to notice that he had no genitals. So why is he always smiling??

II

And another thing that irks me about Ken is that fact that he has never had an original thought in his life.

Barbie must really have this poor hormone deprived boy wrapped around her petite little Barbie finger, because every time Barbie makes a career move-Ken is never far behind. Remember when Barbie turned rocker? Less than a week later Ken dyed his hair three different colors and was playing her base guitar. But Barbie grew tired of the rockstar hours so she went back to skin-tight-ski-suit Barbie and there was Ken, like a little lap dog carrying her skis with that same stupid grin on his face.

I think Ken must be smoking some industrial strength reefer because if the boy ain't got no genitals, drugs are the only other answer. I can just picture Ken sneaking away from the Barbie's Dream House via sheets tied together and throw out the window. Like a communist spy, Ken shimmies down the make shift rope(or comes as close to shimmying as possible for a guy who has no movable body joints). Once he reaches the bottom he scurries into the Barbie bushes - and lights up a joint! He is shaking with exhaustion by now, I mean after all, having to change personalities not to mention careers every ten minutes to keep up with Her Royal Majesty must take a toll on the guy. Imagine being the only male in the entire Barbie kingdom, and not having any genitals to boot! The pressure he must be under to please Barbie every day, to fulfill all her twisted little fantasies day after day after day. It's no wonder he searched for release in the non-jointed arms of Barbie's best friend Meg.

Yes, yes, I know-it's scandalous, but true. Everyone in America knows Ken was secretly an non-genital possessing Lothario. First it was Meg, the lovely brunette side-kick to Barbie-they shopped together on Tuesdays if Barbie wasn't busy giving her "How to be more like Barbie" self-help seminars to the general public. They would meet in the most inconspicuous of places, both having to travel by foot (there is no such thing as a Meg-mobile either). Usually it was a cow pasture. They would spend their nights together tipping over sleeping cow and smoking reefer. It was sort of like scenes from The Sun Also Rises only slightly more interesting. But alas! Barbie's psychosis grew and the strain on poor Ken was even too much for Meg to bear alone.

Ken then turned to the peppy and under aged charms of Barbie's little sister Skipper! He could see the passion just exploding in Skipper's head light sized eyes when ever she saw him walk into the room. Together the two broke state statutory laws as they played passionate games of seduction like...'Don't Break the Ice' and 'Go Fish'!! Of course the tabloids had a white elephant sale with this.

Explicit pictures of Skipper and Ken playing patty cake while the jealous Meg popped Prozac and smoked reefer in the back ground appeared on almost every cover. Ken the preppy drug addict was now a asexual womanizer. This of course put poor Barbie right into five straight years of professional therapy.