Monday, August 9, 2010



My brother liked to play soldiers. He always wanted me to play with him ... little green men that you could not dress or add make-up too .. little plastic clones of one another .. well it certainly explains alot about men doesn't it?? Now the cowboys and Indians were at least a little more interesting but he said a blonde could not be an Indian and frankly .. I always preferred the Indians.


I asked him if I could bring my Barbies and we would take him on ... but he pointed out my Barbies would be giants and this was serious military operation - could I be more ridiculous? So, sometimes, forced by grandparents needing to check off the life lesson of playing nicely with others, I found myself HAVING to play army with the dweeb .....


I would sit there with my motley crew of rejected, arm missing, foot smashed, not as cool, last year model of soldiers and watch him whip himself into a frenzy of strategic maeuverings etc that always involved a whole lot of really strange and frankly .. disturbing ....sounds ....

It was always the same .. I would attack him and win ... he would get this really hurt look on his face for mere seconds before he rose from the ashes and told me his men were all wearing bullet proof gear and they were just dazed and now he had lobbed a super duper atomic bomb strength gernade over into my group and we were all dead ... and then he would do this dance of victory and kiss his soldiers and high five their little plastic points where hands were supposed to be ...

And I would watch him and give him his moment cause I am a kind girl ... and then get up. He would scream ..."Where are you going?"
"Well we are all dead .. game over ... you win .. whoot .. what an army man!!! Wanna play Barbies with me? "
" Sure."


I think all wars should be wrapped up with that invitation ... "wanna play Barbies with me?" We make life way more complicated than it never needs to be.

SKIN: Dream Ink
HAIR: Analog dog
LASHES: FlugenBrise
PURSE: Chuculet
POSES: Everglow
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