The Creepiest Toy Ever

I rounded the corner towards our front hall...when something caught my eye that made me gasp (Aah!) audibly.

I simply didn't expect to see this tableau in our powder room:

Well, I guess even Barbie has to go sometimes.

Instinctively, I knew Daughter #2 was responsible. "What's Barbie doing on the toilet?" I asked. "Waiting for her nails to dry," replied D#2, matter of factly.

Oh. Of course.

While her proper name is "Barbie Primp & Polish (TM) Styling Head," I like to call her "The Creepiest Toy Ever" or "Barbie for Guys Who Can't Get a Date" (Although I suppose the last name might require the addition of an orifice of some kind...)

No matter where you leave this thing in the house, it always catches you by surprise. Even though it's not all that realistic, it gives enough of the impression of a disembodied head to consistently evoke a shudder when you come across it unexpectedly.

Somehow I imagine it's the kind of toy a serial killer might pick up at their local Toys R Us. You know, to keep him company when a real head isn't available to chat with.

For the first month or two after the Barbie Head showed up under our Christmas tree, I kept her on the dining room table. Figured it was some sort of theft deterrent -- either a potential thief would think Barbie was an actual human sitting at the table, or just be too freaked out to enter.

But, after getting startled by her Primp & Polish (TM) one too many times, I've relegated her to the basement, where she spends most of her days sitting quietly in her box.

When she's not on the potty, that is.

In some weird way, I revel in her creepiness. The Head of Barbie's presence gives me the same kick as the adrenaline rush I got as a kid when my siblings and I would hide in the coat closet and jump out to surprise each other.

Plus, it all kind of feeds into my mannequin thing, but that's another post altogether...