One of my dreams is to have an entire red wall full of baby doll heads. Henry promised me I can do this if we ever buy our own house, even said he would make one of those recessed wall thingies for Malachi, but I’m thinking I want Malachi to be near the front door so that he can greet all of the guests that will come over in my imagination.
“That sounds so….inviting,” one of my co-workers dead-panned when I elaborated on my interior design.
Christina works at an auction house and scored an entire box of dolls for her niece. Supposedly, it was a box full of “normal” dolls, like Cabbage Patch Kids, etc. However, she apparently didn’t know what was underneath all of that….
Until her sister found it, freaked out, and said, “Get this out of my house!” and then suggested that Christina give it to me, which is beyond flattering that some creepy, genetically-altered doll made her think of me.
Look you guys! Henry’s alcoholic crackhead hooker mistress finally had the baby!
We’re thinking that maybe the was meant to be a model for fetal alcohol syndrome?
It even has an uncircumsized weener and umbilical cord, WTF!? Plus it’s wearing a dress and bonnet, so I’m thinking that’s pretty progressive.
I love it to pieces, of course.
This happened accidentally, I swear.
The baby was a part of our Easter portraits yesterday (more on that tomorrow) and came to work with me today.
“I have to show you something!” I said to Bridget when she came over to my desk today.
“If it’s that weird baby doll —” she began to protest just as I whipped it out of my purse. She saw the pictures of it I posted on Facebook over the weekend so she was already repulsed by it, but I don’t think anything could have prepared her for what its presence is like in real life. Then she lectured me for the second time since December about handling dirty, unsterilized dolls.
A lot of people at work had pretty strong reactions to my new babe, and things like “Why is that here?” and “That’s really disturbing” were said a lot. Obviously, my co-workers don’t like dolls. That’s OK – MORE FOR ME.
This bastard needs a name and I’m taking suggestions.
(Seriously, if you have any spare doll heads lying around, please send them to me so I can nail them to a future wall.)