The House of Smut Revealed

corrupting the mormon dolls

Oh, man. I didn’t think it was possible, but I’m going to spend even more money today than I’ve ever spent not writing bills.

pamie.com is bigger than the hosting plan I just bought. What does that mean for you? Well, it means I’m moving the site again, and in maybe a week or so the IP will transfer and we’ll have that couple of days where you might not be on the new IP. This will only make a difference in the forum for maybe a day or two.

But it’s better than shelling out $500 a month, which is the current situation I’m in.

I put a deposit down on the car. This means that I’m going to have to get the Club Pro detailed today, so that someone thinks it might be worth some money. Goodbye, Spice Girls ashtrays.

This week is making me feel very much like a grown-up, and I’m not happy about that. In fact, I’m incredibly stressed about feeling like a grown-up. Moving my personal website/business to a larger site to hold the traffic, getting a loan to buy a new car, planning on moving to California, cleaning out my apartment, finishing my freelance deadlines– these are things grown-ups say. When did that happen? I’ve never said “4.8% financing” unless it was a punchline. Suddenly it’s something that I’m figuring out and factoring and saying “TT and L” and these things all mean something to me.

All I had to do with the first car was pick out a color.

Here’s what else I learned. Never do that damn “choose your own entry” thing again. That took forever, I tell you.

So, here I am feeling like a big grown-up, and what happens when I’m on a break this afternoon? I end up talking about dolls.

Someone had asked what the youngest member of ‘NSYNC’s name was and I mumbled out “Justin.” He incredulously turned to me and asked, “Why do you know this?”

“I have to,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because…” I threw my chin up, “I am the Pop Culture Princess.”

“Oh, that’s right,” the other one said, like I go around with this title full-time.

She then brought up the fact that she hadn’t had a teen-idol crush since she loved Donny Osmond. I told her that I had the Donny and Marie dolls.

The Donny and Marie dolls were very different from Barbie and Ken.

Barbie has big, incredible breasts that have this soft spot in between them that fits your thumb just perfectly. She’s not wearing anything underneath her clothing. You can put her in panties and a bra. You can decide to have her make eggs in the Barbie Dream Kitchen wearing only a pair of spiked heels. You can pull her hair up or have it going down all the way to her ass.

Marie had short brown hair that was like Sally Field’s helmet in Steel Magnolias. She was completely flat-chested. As bad as Skipper, if I remember correctly. Clothes just sat on her, and there was never a need for a belt. Her hand had a hole in it. You could stick her microphone in it, but knowing her Mormon ways, I would always fit a diamond ring in the spot. I think I had Donny and Marie married, but I was young and thought that anyone could just get married as long as they loved each other.

Ken is big and bold and square. He’s got a strong chin and jaw. His hair is blonde, and sorta wavy. He is very muscular, and his bulge under his pants is impressive enough that you start to wonder if all boys polish their bulge as often as you’d polish Ken’s with Windex. His butt was defined, and he looked good in a pair of swim trunks.

Donny was wearing plastic tighty-whiteys. Seriously. There was an extra ridge of plastic that went around Donny’s waist and legs. There was no bulge. His hair was dark and slicked down. A plastic shield– there was no fucking around with Donny Osmond’s hair. His smile was so bright and big. I think they painted stars in his eyes. He also had a hole in his hand, but if you did it just right, you could stick one of Barbie’s spiked heels in the hole and have him sniff Barbie’s shoe.

Barbie’s legs are very difficult to open. You kind of have to jam Ken between there. Donny’s arms were already bent at just enough curve that you could prop Barbie’s legs on each one and they were good to go. Marie’s head could turn all the way around. The hole in her hand also held a small martini glass.

I also had these older Barbies that were my aunts from when she was little. These dolls were so old that they were starting to deteriorate. One “Barbie” was missing a foot. A dog had chewed off the leg of another. Fingers were a common casualty. The one-legged Barbie could easily fit in the trunk of the Barbie Corvette with a Ken doll and neither of them got marks on their backs from the trunk release.

The Barbie without a left pinkie was the fetishist, and she’d often blindfold Strawberry Shortcake and sniff her all over. Custard wore a spiked collar made of toothpicks.

One day the Barbie without a head convinced Donny and Marie to put pink and blue Life pegs through the holes in their hands.

The Barbie Town House had a pulley system for the house elevator. Ken and Skipper enjoyed a quick romp on top of the elevator while it was going up, jumping off on the third floor just before they were crushed to their deaths.

Barbie GreenHair liked to take baths in cotton balls. She also enjoyed wrapping herself from head to toe in toilet paper.

Skipper MarkerFace enjoyed cutting the hair off other Barbie dolls and taping it to her back.

One doll had the hair that would grow if you twisted her arm. The other Barbies would torture her by pulling on her hair while twisting her arm at the same time. They’d then eat her hair.

Barbie BackwardsLegs enjoyed riding cats. She’d strap herself on and hang on for dear life while they’d buck and toss and eventually eat her head. She was a wild one, Barbie BackwardsLegs. I miss the hell out of her.

Boys loved girls, girls loved girls, boys loved boys and boys loved girls that loved girls. Anything went in the Barbie Town House.

And, oh man, they still talk about the day Jem and the Holograms showed up with six bottles of tequila and a roll of paper towels.

See, you boys thought when we played dolls it was boring. Little did you know, we were creating houses of smut.

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