Barbie did it, I tell you!

Many, many, MANY years ago I was a small child. I have a cousin who was an even smaller child. She is a few years younger than I am, but we always got along really well. We had a lot of fun playing together when my family would travel up north to visit my granny and various aunts and uncles. I hate to play favorites, but if I had to pick a favorite cousin, I'd pick her. Except for a brief period of time when she was in love with 'N Sync and The Hansons, (MMMBop! *gaaaag*) she's always been a cool chick.

I'm not sure they knew it, but I always loved going to their house. You see, their house was completely different than my house (not that I didn't like my house, mind you). My aunt and uncle are hilarious people (if not a little scary - at least to the young, sheltered, weird child that I was). They had cats. Very strange but fun cats. And dogs - HUGE but gentle dogs. Rottweilers. The kind that knock you over when they wag their tails. They always had a good variety of junk food. Breakfast was usually mix-n-pour pancakes. You know, the kind where you just add water. They had a big television and satellite tv. MTV, VH1, (and here is where my parents will freak out) all the movie channels - fun stuff, I tell you. MTV was actually somewhat cool back then, you know. They had good music videos, and YES, I was a little heathen that watched them. I can attribute much of my love for a wide variety of music to my favorite cousin and her parents. If it weren't for them, I probably never would have been exposed to great 90s bands like Collective Soul. Ahh, memories.

Of course, before we were too into stuff like MTV, we did other fun things such as swing on the swing set while the Rotties nipped at our feet. Or get our butts "whooped" for ruining library books by taping them all together to make Barbie cities. Or sing "The Ants Go Marching..." at night over and over again until we fell asleep. Or play Toy War. Now, if you've never played Toy War, you should know that it's play at your own risk. To play, you hide behind some makeshift "fort" with a pile of toys (mostly stuffed animals) and, well, make war. The object of the game is to hit but not be hit.

This one fateful day that favorite cousin and I played Toy War will forever be recorded in the history books as The Day Crystal Gave Favorite Cousin a Black Eye. (Can't you just hear the music go, "dun dun dun!!!"?)

I'm not sure why she did it, but Barbie infiltrated my camp. She Trojan Horsed her way in and plunked herself right in the midst of my ammo. With her evil plastic grin, unnaturally large bosom, and permanently disfigured feet, she crawled her way to the top of my pile and leapt into my hand as I reached for my next weapon. In playing Toy War, you don't look before you throw. You just reach down, grab a toy, and bombs away!

Barbie was airborne.

Now listen carefully bloggy friends, because this next bit of information is mighty important. Barbies and favorite cousins who cannot duck properly do not a good pair make.

Barbie made contact. Eye contact, that is. Apparently permanently disfigured feet and unnaturally large bosoms can do quite a number on a child's eye. Meaning: I Barbie gave favorite cousin a shiner. What can I say? Chick didn't duck. It was a total accident. Barbie did it. None of these excuses, however, quell the constant reminders of that fateful day. I have become infamous, people. Infamous. The Notorious B.A.R.B.I.E.

Without fail, each and every time I see these particular family members, The Day is mentioned. Do we talk about the Rotties? Or the MTV? The mix-n-pour pancakes? The ants that go marching down to the ground to get out of the rain boom boom boom, boom boom boom boom? No, no. We talk about the black eye. That I caused. When I threw the Barbie. At favorite cousin.

Just like the time I ran into the pole in the middle of the mall food court, and the time I set the pan on fire and coated the entire kitchen with a fine layer of fire extinguisher shmudge... this is one day that I will never live down.

Lock up your plastic dolls, people. Hide your children who cannot duck properly. The Notorious B.A.R.B.I.E. is in town. And she can throwdown. Right in your eye, yo.


(Love ya, favorite cousin. Mad props, girlfriend.)