One woman. One year. Countless distractions.
...now I feel guilty for having dissected some of my stuffed animals and doing some polyfill kind of liposuction on them when I was taught how to sew things back together after ripping them apart.Woe for the stuffed troll doll that I took pinking shears to.
You were one of THOSE kids! I was the polar opposite. Having read waaaaay too many Enid Blyton stories and having bought way too heavily into The Velveteen Rabbit, I fully believed that not only were all my toys totally sentient, they were also extremely sensitive. I was afraid to play with any single toy too long, for fear that it would make the other toys feel bad about themselves.
Well, oddly enough I *did* work along similar lines. I believed they had feelings and came alive when I left the room and got cold at night without a blanket but I shouldn't cover their faces because then they couldn't breathe. Reading When the Dolls Awoke must've messed me up a little inside....Which somehow makes what I did to them anyway worse.*shame*
Maybe it was your way of expressing resentment over their passive-aggressive tactics for controlling you through their "innocence" and "helplessness"? What do you think? I think it's a workable theory.
That was... troubling. Could you maybe write an entry soon anyway, to help me take the taste out of my mind?
Cool animation, check out this one http://stick-stuff.com/animations.htm cool book too.
Well, I did think Barbie ought to go out and get a job or something, because the pink Corvette wasn't going to make payments on itself and Ken had broken off both his legs by that point...(kids in my family play hard...) so she would have to find a way to bring home the bacon with which to fill the Dream House kitchenette.As if her waist had ever seen a decent piece of bacon. Tramp.
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