Dolls

I’ve been thinking lately that I should really do a blog post about dolls, but I don’t even know where to begin. I think I’ve mentioned before how I had a horrible time being a teenager for various reasons, but the main reason was because no one wanted to play dolls with me any more.  Getting older did not stop me from playing dolls, and I know it didn’t stop you either. Over the years, I’ve gotten many confessions out of you. See, we’re not all as different as we think.

But as I said, I don’t even know where to begin, so I’m breaking this up into chapters.

Chapter One: Dolls as children

I’ve had many special dolls over the years, but in forth and fifth grade, me, my sister, and my cousin were very attached to our Baby Talk dolls and our Hot Tots dolls. Every month, my sister and I would dress up our three children, pack them their own suitcases (old lunch boxes), grab our giant brief cases and tape recorders because we were “detectives,” and head off to Ohio to see our cousins. Our entire visits revolved around fake lives where my name was Abigail Bishop. We had emotionally controlling ex-husbands wanting custody of our children, busy jobs solving crimes, and days spent taking care of our kids. We never forgot our Polaroid cameras, with which we carefully documented our children growing up.

Going to the beauty parlor!

Our children playing dress-up!

Fun on the swing set!

Going Camping!

One Easter, we spent a VERY long time setting up this wagon picture, then taking turns getting shots with our Polaroids. My aunt witnessed this and told our moms that she was genuinely worried about us. We were too old for this. We got waaaay too into it. Maybe so, but what's wrong with being passionately enthralled in your own imagination? We had a good year and a half left before it was institutional-level. No lie, these days are some of the best memories of my entire life. Should I admit to that?

                                                

Chapter Two: Dolls as actors

For me, dolls were not just about playing pretend and having a good time--oh no-- they were means to a creative craft. Does that sentence even make sense? Of course it does. Don't question me. I wanted to create films, high-quality films, where I could control every aspect, including set design and actors. Step in dolls.

My first group of actors were the American Girl Dolls. I was an amateur. I had my big sister film, and she did a TERRIBLE job. My scenes were too long and boring. Nothing about them worked. Well, except the dialouge.

In case you didn't catch all that, here it is:
"Well, are you rich?"
"I don't know what rich is."
"If you flew all the way across--"
"Well, we live in an apartment."
"An apartment?"
"Yes, we do."
"Well, apartments are rough and dirty."
"Man, who would want to be your friend? You're nothing but a poor old immigrant."
"I'm not a poor old immigrant! What's an immigrant?"
"Oh you ARE a poor old immigrant!"
"Yes, you are a poor old immigrant."
"My mother and my father say that only the ones who come from different countries are the ones who are jealous of us."
"Yes, but I don't think you're jealous of anybody. Except for maybe a rock. THEY have more brains than you do."
"A rock does not have a brain."
"Oh. Well. Come on. Let's get away from this Swedish rubbish."
"Yeah."

Confused about who says what? I blame the camera man. WTF Liz?!

I realized as soon as I saw them these that the scenes were way too long. I was able to recognize at ten that they were painful to watch. That was a good sign.

By twelve, I found myself some new actors: The Playskool Dollhouse Dolls. I loved how realistic they looked, how creases in their clothes were molded into the plastic, how expressive their faces were. I even developed a crush on one of them: Handsome Doctor. We recently reconnected.  Don't we look cute together? 

The amount of videos I made with these dolls is obscene, and I’m sharing some with you now.

Not wanting to repeat the mistakes I made with my inadequate American Girl Doll actors, I knew the solution would be simple: keep it short. I was so desperate to keep my scenes short that I created a series called Saturday Night Mini Mysteries-- yes, "mini" was in the title. This series was widely successful amongst me, my sisters, and my parents.

Every episode was the same. The boneheaded basketball player, Hugh, did something awful, and Chuckey Lee, the Sheriff, came in to save the day.  Here's a sampling of one episode:

I even experimented with special effects, such as thunderstorm sounds and a red filter indicating nightmares, like this one where I totally rip off that episode of Cosby where all the men give birth to submarine sandwitches. I know you know what I'm talking about. 

My favorite though-- and the most popular Playskool Dollhouse Doll film of my career-- is UFO's and Aliens: The Real Thing, Little Chiddy, hosted by Black Grandma.

Screen shot of the man waking up in a crop circle with a cow...

And then there's this:





Did I enjoy doing accents? Yes, but my fear rewatching these as an adult is that I was borderline racist. Chong Wong Louie? Really, Brigette? Why does Black Grandma sound like a South Park character?
And how come the only thing we can make out Chong Wong Louie saying is "nightmares?" 

I exercised this craft until my creative needs were fulfilled...or until the video camera broke. Then, I just admired dolls from afar. I watched as the cool looking dolls in stores were replaced with ugly alien looking things. Aliens. What am I saying? I went to high school.

Chapter Three: Dolls as Children, pt. 2

A few months ago, my big sister and I were talking about my friends with children. I said, “I feel like we’re so young to be having kids.” My sister replied, “28? That isn’t young.” Oh god. It was like, the most shocking thing I had ever heard. I wasn’t young?!

I always wanted to have children, but women have this window. How many fertile years do I really have left? And while I want kids, babies terrify me. Basically, your body is taken over by an alien and then you have to push the alien out of your body. (Aliens again!) It’s completely dependent on you for EVERYTHING and then one day it grows up and decides to blame you for all its problems. 

Someday, my parents are going to die. Whose soccer practice will distract me from the fact that my parents are dead? I need to start building a family to replace the family that I will inevitably lose. Why am I still alone? Is it because instead of going out and meeting people, I sit in my room and write long-ass blogs about dolls? MAYBE.

Oh, this is too stressful. I should take pictures with my children. I’m going to get them out right now. Let’s pose on the couch and take a picture, kids. Smile! Ohhh this one's a beauty!

I’m fine, Auntie. Everything’s fine I’m great I’m healthy and well-adjusted I’m a functional adult woman. Shelly, stop hitting your brother! Bobby, stop pulling Megan’s hair!

Shelly, you were always my favorite daughter. Com'ere, schnookems! Let's get some candid shots!

Ohhhh maybe I should start a Facebook page for my alter ego, Abigail Bishop, and upload a million pictures of me on vacation with my children. No one will know it’s not real, right? Because the internet is realer than real life. Anyone seen that movie Catfish? No one will ever know. WHERE'S MY POLAROID CAMERA?!

I bet I can enroll my dolls in school and they can pass as real children. Especially if I creep by the door and make them talk and answer questions. Everything’s fine haha!

HANDSOME DOCTOR LET'S GET MARRIED YOU AND ME FOREVER WE CAN RAISE THE KIDS TOGETHER WHY NOT?!

So.....

What I want to hear from you now is obvious. How old were you when you stopped playing with dolls? Did you ever make movies with your dolls? Why are dolls better than real people? Why should we all have doll rooms as adults? Why can't we just be turned into dolls? And if we CAN be turned into dolls, how do you know this and who should I contact?

Roll credits!

"Brigette, this isn't Charlotte Townsend."