I once bought a passel of Barbies. Not whole Barbies, mind you, but just the heads. They were for sale on a friend’s website, and though I rarely (never, ever) spend money on dolls, I snatched these up like a woman possessed and gleefully began arranging them. It was a Very Good Day.

Lately I’ve been purging, and although your first thought is surely “OH NO! NOT THE BARBIES!!!!, you’ll be pleased to know that in no way shape form or teeny tiny inkling of a thought did I ever consider turning them over to a new Barbie family. Those barbie heads are mine for life.

Mind you, this large jar shows about 1/3, or a bit less, of the heads.

But OH! Surprise! While cleaning out my (grown) daughter’s closet this morning, I pulled out a box and — you guessed it — Barbies! And not just body-less Barbies this time, but fully grown and totally intact Barbies. (I may amend this statement when I more carefully examine my haul).

Interestingly, only one of the “intact” barbies is naked, and yes, it’s Ken. I’m uncertain whether he’s showing off his manliness or or was stripped to the bones by the entire box of girls. I figure it’s a tossup.

Oops, two more have stripped. It’s a party!

I guess it’s about time to watch the movie. Sometimes the oddity IS the story.