A few years ago, I wrote about how Barbie entered our home, despite my attempts to keep her out.
But since that time, I’ve decided that if these impossibly skinny, mostly blond dolls are going to be my roommates, I’d at least have a little fun, chronicling their adventures in my house by way of a photo series. (My rule is I can only photograph them as I find them, so there’s no posing on my part.) Enjoy.
It was some kind of awful pact…
Awaiting the paternity results.
Frat guy dream.
The lost years, when Barbie converted to Rastafarianism, sold nickel bags and worked on her hacky sack skills. (These are little Neve’s socks, by the way.)
Things are getting a little too “50 Shades of Gray” in our bathtub.
Polar Vortex? Whatever. We’re staying in, drinking cosmos and watching “Sex and the City” reruns – AGAIN!!
“I blame feminism.”
Some weird version of “The Dating Game” happening on our kitchen table.
A peek at the new season of “The Real World: My Bathroom.”
Oh, Barbie. Planking is SO 2011.