Barbie's Rock Bottom Playset #2

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New For 2010: Barbie's Rock Bottom Playset

A few weeks ago, TDG and I got into a discussion about that great bastion of American girlhood: The Barbie Doll. I explained that, as a feminist, I never felt threatened, limited or inadequate while playing with her as she had a variety of jobs, never had to choose between being pretty or smart, and was an excellent canvas upon which I could express my interest in fashion. Somehow, this conversation wandered into the territory of wondering what sorts of jobs Barbie would have in our current economy. I was inspired by our talk and by my own nostalgia so I decided to reinvigorate my love of altering Barbie’s appearance to create a few new looks and professions. With that in mind, I bring you the first in my series of Barbies Gone Bad:

Unemployment Barbie

In 2010, Barbara Millicent Roberts was a recent college grad with big dreams and a new credit card. After receiving her bachelor’s degree in Elementary Education, Barbie decided that it was high time that she moved out on her own so she accepted her best friend Midge’s suggestion that they rent an apartment together. High on the excitement of their new lives, the girls eagerly used their credit cards to purchase new furniture and décor for their apartment and began pounding the pavement for jobs.

Unfortunately for Barbie, finding a teaching job proved more difficult than she’d been led to believe and, come the following September, she was still unemployed and her boyfriend, Ken, had been shipped off to Afghanistan while Midge, faced with the similar problem of being educated but under experienced had moved out to become a trophy wife to an aging dot-com millionaire who she met while serving cocktails in a “gentleman’s club.”

Faced with losing her apartment and having her utilities turned off, Barbie did what any sensible American would do and opened more lines of credit. All was ok for awhile until her bank increased her interest rate to an exorbitant amount and Barbie was forced to turn to the government for assistance. Her unemployment check covers her rent, but not much else. Now, faced with student loans in deferment and with most of her earthly belongings repossessed, Barbie spends most of her days staring wistfully at her useless degree and crying into her snuggie. Poor Barbie!

Unemployment Barbie comes complete with an unfurnished room and a few motivational posters to keep her smiling as she contemplates turning tricks to avoid foreclosure.

Unemployment Barbie may not reach the heights of fashion to which she was once accustomed in her tear and coffee stained snuggie, but she sure does save time by never bathing or leaving the house.

Unemployment Barbie comes complete with her very own useless degree and government issued check.

-Shannon (Who hopes she doesn't get sued)

Where Did All The Real Men Go? They Turned Into Women.

When I was younger, I used to listen to the older man discuss women.
To hear these men speak, you'd think that women were evil creatures
who existed only to drain you of your funds, withhold sex, and bitch
at you for enjoying anything involving a team of some kind, be it
Delta Force or the Eagles. Women were delicate swans who liked shiny
things and men were savage beasts who drank whiskey and ate raw meat
right off the bone of a creature they hunted themselves with their
bare hands. Thinking back, I have no idea who these men were. They
were probably stand-up comedians I saw on TV. The point is, men were
bad ass and physical, while women were soft and emotional.

Cut to my Facebook page in 2010. One male "friend" frequently posts
about how he just can't wait to curl up next to his girlfriend and
another one talks about a girl playing with his heart. Compare and
contrast with the women. One girl talks about whiskey and farting. A
few days ago, another girl posted about her boyfriend broke up with
her and the time is right to party. A rather large portion of my
female friends are constantly prattling on about sports. Pardon my
french, but what the fuck is this bullshit? This was not the world
late night comedians prepared me for! This some crazy bizarro world
where women open bottles with their teeth and men know damned well
that they have to have dinner on the table by 5, not 5:15.

I know what you're thinking. "Mike, you're sexist and I hate you." But
you're wrong! You don't really hate me. Not yet. This isn't about
"traditional gender roles," or any of that silly crap. This about
something even more terrifying than women voting or making decisions:
WE ACTUALLY LISTENED TO EACH OTHER! If you think back to your
formative years, you might remember men discussing women in the same
way I do. The consensus was that men wanted women that acted like
them. As a result, little girls began to act like men as they grew
older. They took an interest in sports and drinking and fighting. My
generation of males came of age in the time of Dawson's Creek. Now I
know that you're finding it hard to fathom that such an insignificant
part of the nineties played such a large part in guy-liner and the
wimpiness of today's male, but remember that I was 13 and Dawson's
Creek was the hottest thing going for the tween girls. It was the
first show I remember that showed males crying over girls. Now
McDreamy cries every week. And all the girls wanted a guy like Dawson.
Here's a guy who shared his bed with a girl he wasn't going to have
sex with, and we were all expected to act like him. Thanks a lot,
Kevin Williamson.

Now look at us. A generation of hard-drinkin', tough talkin' chicks,
and a bunch of overly sensitive, teary-eyed men. What does this mean
for my generation? Nothing really. It's just something interesting to
think about. Our gender roles completely flipped and nobody seems to
really notice. What happens here on out? Do women get tired of
candy-ass men? Do men get tired of women who drink them under the
table? Will there be a helpline for abused men? Will men get together
once a week to drink wine and gossip under the guise of a book club? I
hope so. I love gossiping about that fat cow, Joe, who lives across
the street. You know I heard he slept with two women last month. You
believe that? What a whore.

-Mike