A Humorous Letter That ALL Parents Can Relate To
I am writing to you from the padded walls of Serenity Hills, here confined after losing my mind attempting to free yet another Barbie from the wire restraints of her packaging. At the risk of sounding like the basket case I am... WHO THE #$%@#$ DO YOU THINK SHE IS?????? HANNIBAL $%^%$#@ LECTER???????
I cannot possibly be the only one to have spent half of Christmas Day wrestling to free new dolls, stuffed animals and toys from their boxes. In extracting my daughter's much wanted Generation Girl Barbie from her pink confines, I counted EIGHT separate pieces of that hideous plastic coated wire holding her tightly in place. Heck, that is an understatement. Hurricane Ken could have blown through, and she would still be standing strong in her ridiculous mini skirt and blue eye shadow.
It took so long to unwind the wires; my daughter got bored and moved on to something different! Not me. I was on a mission. After removing all visible signs of bondage, I pulled on the doll. Her body moved forward, her head remained steadfastly in place. What the...? Upon closer inspection I discovered that the poor pink princess had plastic "spikes" coming from her head through the back of the cardboard. FROM her head! Give me a break -- even Old Yeller did not need this many restraints, and he was foaming at the mouth.
And at the risk of sounding like a lunatic, Mattel, answer this question: With all your high tech computerized machines, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO USE ONE TO APPLY THE #$@!#% DECALS TO THE TOYS BEFORE WE BUY THEM??????
I am never more frustrated than when I have spent big $$$, two arms, one leg and an eyeball on a toy, only to have my child open it and present me with a huge page of decals needing to be placed "just so." Heaven forbid you should place one off center -- or horrors -- in the wrong place!!! One, your child will never let you forget it; and two, once they are in place, THEY ARE IN PLACE. The only thing more sturdy than these decals is, well, A BARBIE IN HER $%$#@# BOX... ahem, sorry. I just do not understand why this cannot be accomplished in the factory... by machine, by monkey, by parents looking for a part time job?
Now, Mattel market researchers, I have news for you. ANYTHING CONTAINING MORE THAN FIVE PIECES IS NOT A GOOD TOY!!! All these various housing and shopping options for Barbie, while great, are UN%$#@REALISTIC!!!!!! Bed & Bath, Beauty Shop, Ice Cream Shop, Living Room, Pet Shop, Pet Shop In Her Living Room, too many pieces!
You sadistic creatures make these things, cram them full with 4,000 tiny pieces, set them on the store shelves and then move on to your next acquisition of plastic coated wire!
The BIG toy from my mom and dad was the Barbie Airplane. Big, heavy, and to quote the three year old, "Dat Cooool!" Of course it was big; it had to hold the 4,000 pieces that came with it! Heavy? Absolutely! We had to degut the plane like a turkey to get all the accessories out. "Cooool?" I suppose, although they will never make a Barbie plaything cooler than the old townhouse with the string elevator. (Remember, ladies?) I kid you not about the number of tiny pieces that came with this aircraft.
I had to laugh as I watched my husband attempt to stock the beverage cart. Tiny glasses, tiny cans, and teensy tiny ice cubes for the ice bucket. (Note to Mattel: While the buying public appreciates your attempt at realism, Barbie is not going to mind if her drink is not "on the rocks" -- and quite frankly, I give these ice cubes less than 24 hours before they "melt" into the bottom of the toybox, never to be seen again.)
Mattel, it is with a heavy heart that I must end this letter, however the head nurse has informed me it is time for Group Tapioca.
Let me close with this thought: One day I shall regain my faculties, leave my padded room and rejoin the outside world. Until then, stay out of the mental health field. I shudder to think how the current restraint system would be modified under your care. Plastic head spikes cannot be comfortable and coated wire makes me chafe.
Now where's my tapioca?