Clothing strewn across the house.
Ariel passed out on the floor.
Pediatrician Barbie left the baby in the tub…unattended.
Every time I entered La Grande’s room over the past few weeks, the dollhouse was an eyesore. It always looked like her dolls had just wrapped up a rave and an orgy the night before. The girls looked tore up. Scratch that. To’ up. From the flo’ up.
I kept asking La Grande to kindly dress her Barbies- after all, the neighbors <read: me> were complaining. They can’t just sit there letting it all hang out.
And why on Earth was Jasmine wearing Rapunzel’s clothing? And Ariel? She opted to wear nothing but fin. Shameless, I tell you.
But worse than the clothing is the hair.
First of all, what weird-ass material are these companies using to make this hair? How is it that the hair comes beautifully smoothed and after a few hours of play looks like someone who’s experienced hours of shock therapy?
Rapunzel has had two, read it TWO haircuts since she moved in. Bitch has got to get that hair under control.
Well, I just reached a point that I couldn’t take it any more. I had to do something. The girls couldn’t live in this kind of abject squalor any longer.
It was time for an intervention.
I grabbed my best hair products, de-tangling comb, and pony tail holders and got to work.
By the time it was all said and done, the girls were cleaned up, dressed up, nicely styled and lounging comfortably in their newly cleaned dream home. It was like express rehab at a meth-infested whorehouse.
Now, from all my stints watching Intervention and Hoarders, I know that the girls have a strong likelihood of a back slide and relapse…but for now, I’ll just bathe in the afterglow. I mean, it should last at least a week or so, right?
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