Kimopolis

My kind of town.

Posts Tagged ‘Barbie’

Synthroid My ASS

Posted by kimlno on July 8, 2009

Lindsey, aka Malibu Beach Barbie

Lindsey, aka Malibu Beach Barbie

Today was my second day of physical therapy. After the whole back spasm ordeal, I needed some rehabilitating in a MAJOR way.

My physical therapist is everything you don’t want in a PT. She’s cute, blonde, thin, tan, and, if she was a doll, she’d be Malibu Beach Barbie. I hate her.* I know that seems harsh, but you didn’t have to stand next to her today in front of a giant wall-to-ceiling mirror while she made you use the Reformer. Actually, it was the stretching afterward that really solidified my deep loathing of this perky, petit woman.

You see, when I got dressed this morning, I decided to wear my khaki green shirt to bring out the green in my eyes. I thought I looked pretty snazzy, if I do say so myself. Cut to me standing next to MBB and resembling, for all intents and purposes, a giant COCKTAIL OLIVE. If I had been wearing a red hat, the look would’ve been complete. In fact, I think I may have just accidentally stumbled onto my Halloween costume.

Now, I know I am pleasantly plump, and I am working on being less so. However, I had no idea I was a BLIMP. A tub of lard. A fatso. Well, at least when standing next to MBB. Remind me not to EVER do that again.

So, then a few minutes ago, I called Dr. Field (the alchemist) to find out what my blood test results from last week revealed. As it turns out, the medication I have been using forever to control my hypothyroidism is non-existent in my body. Not even trace amounts showed up in my labs. How is that possible, you ask? I’m not a doctor! I have no idea!

Basically, a pill that I have taken religiously since I was 15 hasn’t been doing it’s job, and it’s job is a very important one…among other things, it keeps my metabolism up so I can actually eat more than a Triscuit and not gain a pound. No WONDER I am a so fat! I might as well have been popping a Tic Tac every morning instead.

And this is not news to me, since I’ve been telling every doctor I’ve ever had that there’s something wrong with my body and it holds onto every single calorie I ingest for dear life. Have they listened? No. Have they drawn blood and done extra tests? Yes. But apparently no one knows how to read those tests because they have been inaccurate for God knows how long. BASTARDS!

The good news is I have new medication to replace the defective one. The bad news is I have to wait 3-4 weeks to see if it actually works. And then have MORE blood drawn, wait for those test results, and cross my fingers the new stuff shows up. If not, then I get to try ANOTHER new medication and the cycle starts again. It’s a DRUG ROLLER COASTER, which is not as much fun as it sounds.

All I have to say is thank God I had a debilitating back spasm or I might never have known my Synthroid wasn’t working. Yeah, thanks, God. *rolls eyes*

*I don’t really hate you, Lindsey. I just wish you’d gain 50 pounds. I’m just sayin’…

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Posted in Sharing Is Caring, Trials and Tribulations | Tagged: , , , , | 3 Comments »

Does Barry Manilow Know That You Raid His Wardrobe?

Posted by kimlno on March 12, 2009

In 1977, the year Jimmy Carter was elected as our 39th President of the United States, I was introduced to Barry Manilow by my Aunt Judy. Not the man himself (I would never be that lucky), but his songs, by way of a totally dated music format, the 8-track. My aunt was WAY ahead of her time; most automobiles back then were only equipped with radios (an AM radio, not one of those fancy-schmancy technologically advanced AM/FM radios). To this day, my aunt remains to be the only person I have ever met who had an 8-track player in her car. What can I say? My aunt Judy was cool.

Sonny and Cher Dolls.

Sonny and Cher Dolls.

During summer vacations, I would frequently go over to my aunt and uncle’s house in Calabasas and hang out with my cousins. Why? They had a pool. Plain and simple. Plus, her daughter, Mandy, is my same age, and she had a TON of Barbies and Barbie accouterments. Mandy owned the most coveted Barbie of all, which wasn’t really a Barbie…it was a Cher doll. And let me tell you, Cher had a ridiculously awesome wardrobe for a doll, not to mention long black hair that hung down practically to her ankles. Mandy always had the best toys. *SIGH*

On a typical day we would spend half the time in the pool, or until our fingertips puckered, began to turn white and peel off, and then the rest of the day we’d play Barbies in Mandy’s room. It was about as close to paradise a 6-year-old could get. Often, after we’d spent hours getting Barbie and her friends properly dressed, styled, and settled in Barbie’s Townhouse with its real working elevator (See? I TOLD you she had the best toys), her brother Cam would burst into the room, grab the Barbie Townhouse with both hands, and proceed to violently shake the Townhouse back and forth while screaming, “EARTHQUAKE!” Barbie, her friends, and all her furniture would be flung free of the structure creating what can only be described as a Barbie Massacre. As a kid, my cousin Cam was a total dick. Mandy may have had the best toys, but she had the worst brother. Cam constantly made me thankful that I was an only child.

Whenever my aunt had errands to run, she’d coerce us into going with her by dangling the promise of a special “surprise” if we behaved ourselves. Really, we had no choice in the matter. Who would leave two small children at home alone while she went shopping? Hmm. That’s strange. I don’t remember Cam ever joining us on our excursions. I wonder what Judy did with him when we went with her on errands?

ANYsheprobablylockedhimintheclosetuntilwereturnedbutthatispurelyconjectureasIhavenoproof, we’d all squeeze into the front seat of her big diesel Mercedes, and because I was the shortest, I had to sit in the middle…on the dreaded bump. Not the seat bump, in this instance, but the floor bump. As far as the seat was concerned, I was situated in the crevasse, so to speak. Sometimes, when both my aunt and my cousin exited the automobile at the same time, the crevasse would close up and before I could slide out of the car, the back of my thighs would be pinched between the seat cushions. It was a small price to pay in order to have absolute power over the tape deck. Every once in a while, my aunt would allow Mandy and me to sit together in the backseat and pretend like she was our chauffeur, but she preferred it if we all sat together in the front.

Barry Manilow Live 8-Track Tape.

Barry Manilow Live 8-Track Tape.

It seems like the only tape that was ever in the deck was Barry Manilow Live. It was blue and it stuck out just enough to be able to read the title and see Barry’s upside-down disembodied head. In a related anecdote, the first time I saw the album cover in its entirety I was SHOCKED to Barry sporting a skin-tight, powder blue jumpsuit. After seeing that, there was no doubt that Barry was indeed Jewish, if you get my drift. We listened to that tape so often that I still have most of the album memorized. It starts off with cheering and music, and then some lady (I assume one of his back-up singers) announces, “Ladies and gentleman, Mr. Barry Manilow!” With that, the music changes to a psst-ta psst-ta psst-ta beat (very “Solid Gold”). A few bars of that finger-snapping rhythm, and the MANilow himself says, “Hello New York!” and immediately launches into a jazzy rendition of “Riders to the Stars,” that is so exhilarating it could wake the dead. All three of us would sing along as we made our way down Ventura Boulevard to Gemco.
GemCo, in my humble opinion, was the best store to ever exist in the entire universe. It was like 10 stores in one. There was nothing you couldn’t buy at Gemco. Now, those kind of places are a dime a dozen (Wal-Mart, Target, etc.), but back in 1976 that store was special and unique. They sold everything from fine jewelry to groceries to clothes. They also sold gas, electronics, toys, hardware, sporting goods and they even filled prescriptions. While my aunt was doing her weekly shopping, my cousin and I were permitted to go off on our own and explore. Our favorite thing to do was to hide out underneath the large, round racks of clothes. No one ever knew we were there…it was kinda like a couch fort, but instead of couch cushions there were rows of peasant blouses and flared jeans.

Gemco

Gemco

Having free reign in Gemco led to a life-long fantasy of “accidentally” being locked in the store overnight. Thankfully, I was fortunate enough to live the dream vicariously through the film Career Opportunities, a badly marketed and poorly titled John Hughes film starring a young Jennifer Connelly back when she had huge knockers and eyebrows like Leonid Brezhnev. I fondly refer to those early years as the “Labyrinth Age.” For those of you who share my dream of spending the night in a department store, I’ve included my favorite scene (ROLLER SKATING!) for your viewing pleasure. Click HERE.

Once Mandy and I had explored every nook and cranny of Gemco, and my aunt was finished with her shopping, we were usually rewarded with a trip to Ferrell’s for ice cream sundaes (Tin Roof, no whipped cream, my usual). Of course on the way over to Ferrell’s we continued to listen to Barry belt out the classics: “New York City Rhythm,” “Jump Shout Boogie,” a rare medley of “Could It Be Magic” and “Mandy,” “Daybreak,” and, of course, “I Write the Songs.” But the absolute most excellent song on the entire album has to be “A Very Strange Melody,” and I bet you’ve never even heard of it. You see, before Barry was a big star, he wrote advertising jingles to pay the bills, and some rather well-known ones at that.

Barry Manilow got mad skillz. During the medley, he sings about five or six jingles including ones for Dr. Pepper (“the most original soft drink ever in the whole wide world”), State Farm (“like a good neighbor, State Farm is there”), Stridex (“give your face something to smile about”), Band-Aid (“I am stuck on Band-Aid, ‘cause Band-Aid’s stuck on me”), Pepsi (“all across the nation, it’s a Pepsi generation”), and McDonald’s (“you deserve a break today”). However, regardless of how famous his other jingles were, the one that makes them all pale in comparison, my personal favorite, and truly a work of art, is this little ditty*:

There’s barkin’ in the the kitchen
Yellin’ in the hall
Ringin’ at the door bell
Poundin’ on the wall
Kids out of sight
And kids in the wa-ay-ay
No time to cook on this hectic day
Come on, come on, come on
Get a bucket of chicken
Finger lickin’ good
Have a barrel of fun
Goodbye ho-hum
Say hello to your family
Come on everyone
To Kentucky Fried Chicken
Have a barrel of fu-uh-uh-un!

I told you he’s a GENIUS. And no matter how sophisticated, or pretentious, my musical tastes may become, I will always love Barry Manilow.

*To sing along, click HERE.

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Posted in Sharing Is Caring, When I Was Your Age... | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

I’m A Barbie Girl, In A Barbie World

Posted by kimlno on January 11, 2009

The Barbie Styling Head

The Barbie Styling Head

Way back when I was a little girl, when dinosaurs still roamed the Earth, I wanted a Barbie Styling Head more than anything in the whole wide world (think Ralphie’s single-minded pursuit of an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle and multiply by a million). For those of you not familiar with the Barbie Styling Head, allow me to attempt to capture the awesomeness that is the BSH. Essentially, it’s the single best element of Barbie (aside from her wardrobe) without any of the other distractions, her hair. Plus, the BSH was about, oh, I don’t know, ten times bigger than Barbie’s real head. Bigger head = MORE HAIR. As if that weren’t enough to curl any little girl’s toes, she came with oodles of hair accessories, jewelry, and cosmetics that you could use, too. I get a little lightheaded just thinking about all the different ways the BSH could be transformed. As far as I was concerned, the BSH was the best toy ever invented.

To be honest, and anyone who knew me back then can attest to the legitimacy of this claim, I had a LOT of Barbie paraphernalia. I had the Barbie corvette (pink, natch), the Barbie Dream Home (which was so large it took up a third of my bedroom), the Barbie Pool (sadly, after the accidental flood of ’78, I was no longer allowed to fill with water), the Barbie Camper (not the good one, but the original cheap version that was basically cardboard covered in plastic so the door would never stay closed*), not to mention at least 10 Barbies, a Ken doll, and a Skipper. Why only one Ken, you ask? Well, Ken just wasn’t as much fun as Barbie. His clothes were pretty lame, and you couldn’t brush and style his hair. Besides, my Barbie fantasy world only required one Ken to satisfy all the ladies.

Admittedly, I was a Barbie-aholic. So, when I put the request in to Santa for a Barbie Styling Head, and I didn’t get it, I was shocked and saddened. Why? Hadn’t I been a good girl? Didn’t I deserve that Barbie head? When I asked my mom why Santa was being such a stingy asshole, she informed me that Santa thought the Barbie head, sans body, was kinda creepy. Plus, she pointed out that since I had a reputation for cutting off all of my Barbie’s hair, once I had done that to the head, it would be of no use to me anymore. I think it had more to do with the fact that the Barbie head came with makeup and for some reason my mom thought that it was inappropriate for an 8-year-old to play with makeup. Funny, grandma never seemed to mind if I played with makeup at HER house. But then again, grandma also let me pretend to be a waitress and serve her beers and Better Cheddars while she relaxed on the chaise lounge in the back yard. Hey, it was MY idea.

Anymygrandma’ssocoolshedrinksbeerstraightfromthecan, I never did get a Barbie Styling Head. No one knows for sure how much irreversible damage was caused by the absence of the BSH in my life, as it cannot be measured with today’s existing technology. However, I’d be willing to bet it’s right up there with everyone thinking I was a boy because I had short hair until I was 10 (including once when I was wearing pearl earrings…what boy wears PEARL EARRINGS?!?), and not being allowed to own a pair of jelly shoes unless I swore to wear them with socks (I ask you, who wore jelly shoes with socks?!?). Who knows what kind of woman I would be today if Santa HAD granted my wish? No one will ever know, but it is my cross to bear.

*Note: On Christmas morning of 1976, both my cousin Cathy AND my cousin Mandy received the new and improved Barbie Camper, and I did not. This is still a point of bitter contention between Santa and me, and I have never forgiven him.

Posted in I'd Buy That For A Dollar | Tagged: , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

 
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