A month or more ago a bunch of us gals tricked our friend The Plant into hosting her own birthday party. (Yeah, we're pretty awesome. Wanna be friends?)
Anyway, she sent her husband to LA for a soccer match and then spent all day calling in an order for preparing fresh pasta. We showed up for dinner and surprised her with stupid hats, noisemakers, and gifts ranging from the beautiful to the ridiculous.
"Bring four packs, we're going to be in there for an hour!"
Over the years I'd heard rumors about The Plant's impressive B*rbie collection but was seriously amazed when I saw her hauling out trunk after trunk of dolls and clothes. The most amazing part is that the majority of the clothes were hand made by women in her family. And she still has them. And we still play with them.
About fifteen minutes into dressing the dolls and brushing their hair things got . . . well . . . out of hand? Silly? Surreal? Hilarious? Inappropriate?
Eh, judge for yourself:
Things started out nice enough.
Sure, Titty McBonbon is topless, but she's still classy.
Class? Just left the building.
Poor Joe (Namath), lost his feet and his right arm after he hit on that sportscaster lady.
But he can still get with other ladies.
Go Joe!
Seems Ken doesn't care about Joe's lack of limbs, or that he never takes off his helmet.
Oh. Wow. Ken's in love.
Ken! Think about things! If you consummate it's harder to get an annulment!
Aaaaaand . . . the reception gets out of hand.
Filled with shame, they drank the Kool-Aid
and lay down together to die at the end of the night.
Before they went to the Dreamhouse In The Sky, however, they filmed an off-the-cuff but highly entertaining reenactment of Mad Men. Help honor the memory of these dead plastic hedonists by enjoying their performance.
