Or: A Tale of Two Barbies.
I now own two Barbies. There is, of course (Jaxon, avert your eyes) this Christmas present I got for myself:
You didn't really think I was going to leave a Barbie with *ravens*† on the shelf, did you?
[SUMMARY: This sister is doing it for herself.]
But If I had asked you a month ago if Marin owned any Barbies,‡ you may have said, "No."
I've had this Barbie for several years.
Brother§ got her for me, oh, seven? eight? years ago. She's my own custom Barbie and my evil twin.¶
It seems the Customise Your Own Barbie website had some limitations on how salacious Evil Marin Barbie could actually be, so her profile is a little tame.#
[SUMMARY: I don't have a husband or City Shopper accessories.]
I'm Barbie's *special* friend.††
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Marin trivia: I memorised Poe's "The Raven" in the seventh grade. I can still recite most of it -- all of it with a little promting. It is my second favourite Poe poem.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And if you'd guessed I'd be talking about myself in third-person by January 11, I'd have laughed in your face.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You may note that my calling him Brother isn't just an Innernets affectation to keep from dragging him through my personal brand of mud -- it's what I actually call him much of the time. And I really call the nephews Tallest, Hairiest Nephew and Dr. Doom too. Imagine.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): If I had green eyes, a 12-inch waist, a 48-inch inseam and if the bitch would loan me that marvelous acid green outfit just once.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Gymnastics... is that what the kids are calling it these days?
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): It was college. We were really drunk. You know how kids experiment these days...