secret 7 - barbie girl

once upon a time many years ago, i had a very good friend that i hung out with all the time. she worked at the same newspaper i did and was in charge of all the kids who had paper routes, so i used to tease her about whether she'd done her paper route that day. i actually used to tease her about a lot of things. because she could take it and she could tease back.

we had a lot of great times together. we ran the hash. we had sloth weekends where we did nothing but play nintendo all weekend. we played cards into the wee hours of the night. we had a game called "drink two" where you had to name who sang a song first when it came on the radio and if you did it, the others all had to take two drinks of their drink (i was rubbish at that game). we watched star trek: next generation marathons and real world marathons on MTV. one sloth weekend, my sister and her friend went to target and came back with presents for everyone. they brought me something sparkly and they brought michellea a pork sandwich.

back then, i had a little bit of a thing about barbie. i collected the christmas barbies and other collectible editions of barbie (hmm, maybe that should have been my secret--oh well, consider it a little bonus extra secret, because the real secret is coming up and it's a doozy). these, i had on shelves in my living room. well, michellea wasn't really a barbie girl. and in fact, on one or other sloth weekend, she let it slip that she was kinda freaked out by dolls in general (a bit like i feel about clowns) and that all those barbies staring down from the shelves above the t.v. were kinda freaking her out. i surely laughed maniacally at the time.

well, college ended and we all went our separate ways, moving to other states, but staying in touch. in those days, via telephone, where we could actually have three-way calls due to the miracle of mid-90s technology.

i always kept the doll thing in the back of my mind and then, when a friend was visiting from germany, i told him of the plan i'd been brewing. i would cut up a barbie doll and put the pieces into identical envelopes and send them to michellea from all over the world. i'd send a couple home with him for him to mail from germany. i'd distribute the others to other friends and ask them to send them from places that michellea wouldn't suspect of me. i'd save the envelope with the head myself and send it after a few weeks with a note, revealing it was me and go down in the annals of practical jokedom. it was a genius level practical joke.

so my german friend used his pocket knife to chop up a barbie (it hurt me a little bit to cut up barbie, but it was also cathartic in a way). we carefully placed the pieces of her in identical little manila envelopes and i printed address labels and addressed them. my friend took several of the envelopes and i distrubted the rest to other friends to send from random postmarks.

in those days pre-9/11, my sister actually got a guy who sat next to her on a flight to denver to take one of them and mail it from his home in colorado. he thought it was a hilarious story and thought it would be a riot to take part in it. another friend was going to the bahamas and she took a couple along with her to mail along her journey.

michellea was working at a big university, running a residence hall. the bits of barbie began to trickle in. and she, of course, thought it must be someone in her hall--there was a guy who was a bit delusional and fancying himself the new jesus and he headed her list of suspects. my sister and i were also on her suspect list (she knew us well) and i remember that michellea called me and we had a three-way call with my sister, wherein i remember strongly denying the whole thing, tho' i had to use the mute button to laugh uproariously. then, sadly, the unabomber, who hadn't been caught or active for some time struck somewhere or other and then the bits of barbie began to seem a bit frightening. we heard that michellea's mom wanted her to call the police. so we called her& right away and told her it was us and that it was just a practical joke. by then, i had sent the head, revealing the trick.

michellea never did get all of the pieces of barbie, some were lost in the mail. she kept them in a shoe box for quite awhile thereafter. and she had to admit, unabomber aside, that it was a pretty good practical joke. the only thing is is that she's not yet paid me back for it. so i'm still on guard.

wherein she explains that alarming cheek licking thing

yesterday, in a fit of pique over a few things going wrong--standing at the baggage carrousel 'til the last bag came and the huge group of australian pharmacists (two of which sat next to me on the plane and were just lovely) had all wandered off into the copenhagen night and still not having my bag, followed immediately by some totally badly-raised arrogant asshole queue-jumping dane cutting ahead in the line at the DSB counter (and yes maybe i HAVE given up commas as well as capital letters)--i may have mentioned in the middle of a comment that was just a titch rant-y on one of my favorite new blogs a desire to lick the cheeks of certain parties. which may or may not have caused a bit of alarm on the part of those parties and an admonition to:

1. stop swearing on their blog. 
2. let them use any damn word they wanted (including rad, despite its obvious fall from use sometime around 1988, tho' usage possibly hung on in places like fargo into 1989) or they would take away my crown(!?!) WTF!?!
3. keep my tongue within range of licking only the inside of my own cheeks.

this made me realize that i should probably explain the cheek licking thing.

but first, a small diversion (like you didn't see that coming). one of the beauties of new friends (in the blogosphere or in real life) is that you can revive all of your old habits/jokes and they seem new again. so you can once again say, "lemme think about it, no." (with no pause between "it" and "no") to people and they find it hilarious once again (b/c let's face it, your old friends know ALL about it and think it's a bit lame of you to keep saying it).

it's the same with the licking thing.

the licking thing began at a party many years ago (let's just say early 90s and leave it at that). it was someone's older sister's party and so we didn't really know most of the people there all that well. but we (being my friend K (it was her sister's party) and me) wanted to have a bit of fun and be remembered, so we cooked up a scheme wherein we would go up to someone we didn't know very well (say a kind of cute boy) and stand beside him, one on each side. we would then, with a glance, both go in for the lick. on his cheeks.

it's rather surprising to suddenly have two girls you don't know very well simultaneously lick your cheeks, but once people got over the shock and wiped off the spit, they had to admit they actually rather liked it.

of course, eventually, you get known for this and then one day, to your dismay, the person you're about to lick dodges the lick at the exact moment when it's too late to pull back and you accidentally lick your friend, who in turn licks you simultaneously--on the tongue, leaving you a bit scarred and unable to play the licking game anymore for a number of years. tho' the cute boy who just dodged the lick is pretty into the whole idea and would like the two of you to demonstrate again. which you do not oblige, seeing as you are sputtering and spitting and generally washing your tongue off with beer.

however, you do, on your own, occasionally use a quick lick of the cheek to disarm people during a boring moment at a party or when husband is being all serious and needs to lighten up a bit. it's a totally affectionate gesture, you see. tho' husband has developed a 6th sense about it (or maybe knows when you get the look on your face that means you're about to go in for the lick) and is pretty good at dodging it. it matters less that the lick is dodged when you are going in for it alone.

and that's the story of the alarming cheek licking thing.