BARBIE.
“Like, I mean, as if … That Aqua stuff: “I’m a Barbie girl, in my Barbie world…” What kind of baloney is that for chrissakes? HELLO-OH. I’m, like, totally not into that scene. It totally sucks. Eeuch. I mean, excuse ME, I was, like, 40 years old on March 9th (Pisces; totally cool huh?) And if just one more person, like, even mentions that totally, like, wrong song… It makes me fell like ralphing; I can feel the chunks start to rise up in my throat, like, right now. I mean I just so need something like that around to boost my image right now. NOT.
C’mon guys, gimme a break… You’re talking to a babe who, like, grew up with the Stones, Hendrix, Deep Purple… Oh yeah, that reminds me: Deep purple; that’s the colour of the speedo on this way cute little roadster the dudes from Top Gear have loaned me while I’m visiting here in your Britain. Ken and me have just spent, like, 6 months cruising, listening to complaint rock on the stereo and visiting all those totally cool houses owned by your Queen Betty. I Just love history; It’s, like, so old.
Whatever. Ken says this neat little car’s called an MX-5, and its only had one facelift in eight years. Hello-oh. That’s, like, totally nowhere… I’ve had three already. I guess that’s what comes of having plastic surgeons for parents. They christened me Barbara Millicent (yuk) Roberts but mom always called me Barbie right out of the box. She’s not around any more -like, due to some totally bizarre accident during a routine liposuction- but my dad still lives in the stable block of my Dream House in California. He’s pretty cool to have around for an old guy, and helps look after my 38 pets; 17 dogs, 11 horses, 5 cats, a parrot, a chimpanzee, a panda, a lion cub, a giraffe and a zebra. It’s way neat to have them all living with me but, like, please keep off the grass, right? Eeuww.
Ken -he’s a regular guy, so he knows about stuff- says that it’s thanks to this little Mazda that there are now so many two-seater roadsters around, and he reckons that you wouldn’t even have your totally British MG if Mazda hadn’t had the courage to, like, build the MX-5 in the first place and re-kindle everybody’s interest in “rag-top” motoring. Rag-tops? In my wardrobe? Hello-oh. AS IF…
Whatever. Ken says that the new MX-5 looks pretty much like the old one except for a new trunk big enough for two sets of golf bats, a third stop light and new, Dodge Viper (way cool car) style headlamps. I kinda think it would be neat still to have the old pop-up lights, so I could, like, stick false eyelashes on them to match my own baby blue peepers. Whatever. I think it looks really cute and stylish, and that golden color reminds me of my horse, Nibbles -we have the same color hair you know. Sometimes I wonder if we, like, actually have the same hair altogether. I suspect Ken may just be a teensy bit jealous of Nibbles; the other day I heard him muttering about “that damned pony” being “the only thing that ever gets a decent ride round these parts…”
Whatever. Even Ken says he likes the Mazda though he sometimes thinks it’s a bit of a hairdresser’s car. NOT : My hairdresser at the mall, Marcel, drives a, like, Porsche, which he says is all thanks to me. But I’m totally not totally sure what he means. I mean, c’mon like, I have to see him every day for a hair check; I might, like, at any minute meet some random, brutally hot guys or, like, stumble into some bad lighting…
Now I’m, like, 6′ 5″ tall, have a 15″ waist, a neck that would pass muster on a swan and weigh 115lbs, of which about 65lbs hangs out on my, like, chests -way cool. And most of that height is in my legs. “Nice stems, doll face” Ken always says… Nevertheless, I fit totally easily into the Mazda. So does he. The interior’s a bit, like, drab though. Especially for a clothes crazy mall babe like me who gets through 120 new outfits a year and chooses her threads every day with the help of a color co-ordinating computer programme (neat, huh?). So, a shot of color would be, like nice, right? And I totally don’t mean that, like, gross digital clock the size of the TV in my bedroom and the color of the totally cool lava lamp in my den.
We both feel, like, way claustrophobic with the roof on too. That new glass rear screen’s a breeze though, particularly with your totally, like, neat British weather. NOT. But what’s really neat is how easy it is just to, like, throw the roof back over your shoulder. Cool : Instant rays and, like, a zillion miles headroom just, like, like that. Unfortunately, although my personal fitness trainer’s been working on my arm strength, they’re still a bit like pink pipe cleaners and you need to be way strong to pull the hood back up without getting out of the car. Ken can do it. But he says you need an arm like a condom stuffed full of walnuts to manage it… Like, what’s a condom, huh? “Never mind, Barbie” I distinctly hear him mutter, like, darkly…
Life’s a breeze with the roof down though. In fact, life’s totally a gale… I have to spend, like, an hour platting my hair before going cruising. Ken tells me this new MX-5’s fitted with something called an ‘aero-board’ behind the headrests to keep you looking, like, neat in the seat. But the last time I went out as Ultra Hair Barbie (way cool hair down to, like, the ground?), I drove with my hair loose and it, like, still totally thrashed the mascara clean off of my eyelashes and then turned straight into a gross linguini beehive type thing. AS IF… I felt like such a bonehead and could just sense myself going straight down a, like, shame spiral. I needed a calorie-fest and a check out of the latest Versace just to, like, shake of an overbearing sense of ikiness. Marcel got an extra visit that day. Totally.
I think the Mazda’s just, like, perfect, for cruising to the mall and visiting with Teresa and Christie; the two, like, major babes in my rock band. The MX-5 has a pretty relaxed ride for a sports dude and it’s, like, so easy to drive. I’m totally not used to a stick shift, but this one’s so easy that I picked it up real quick and, like, didn’t even split a single nail. And the steering’s real easy round town with that totally neat Nardi wheel. It’s also real easy to park, especially with the roof down. Actually, Ken told me that; everywhere I go has valet…
But Ken likes to do the driving when were outta town. He’s always dragging my buns off on some camping trip or other; says it makes him feel like a real man for change… Whatever. Then he says totally weird stuff like “The 7% power hike on this 1.8iS model gives a totally usable 138bhp and 120lb/ft of torque, good for 0-62mph in 8.0 seconds and a maximum, like, speed of 127 mph.” Cool enough, I guess. Ken also says that the Mazda may look cute with me in it cruising the ‘burbs, but you can also get your rocks off with if you’ve a mind to (“Which makes a nice change” he added, somewhat, like, sulkily to my mind…) He says that the steering’s just, like, so precise and accurate, and you can feel exactly what’s going on, like, both through the steering wheel and the seat of your pants. In fact he even, like, totally grumbled that even I should be able to feel something in my shorts. Well, excuse ME , Kenneth.
He also says that the pedals are nicely positioned for heel and toe driving. But, hello-oh, that totally makes no sense to me… I drive with my toes, like, on the pedals and my heels on the floor. Actually, most of the 1 million pairs of totally neat shoes I own (Imelda Marcos eat my shorts, honey. Totally) have eight inch heels on them so I tend to drive in bare plastic. Whatever. Ken even says that despite there not being a huge surplus of power, you can have, like, totally “tail-out fun if you’ve got the balls for it”. So, I ask him what he means by this and he, like, totally snaps “Search me, heartface…”
To tell the truth I’ve been a bit worried about Ken lately. He’s like, totally my coolest dude, but he’s always, like stomping round the place muttering under his breath like he’s about to totally explode. I guess I know what the trouble is though: ‘Cos I’m like, really caring but really, successful and totally busy, you know? I have quite a few careers these days; ballerina, nurse, stewardess, astronaut, teacher, surgeon, reporter, rock star, pilot, marine, police officer, dentist, lifeguard, firefighter, engineer, vet and aerobics instructor to name but a few. Which leaves poor old Kenny-babes really, like, out of it. I guess he’d twiddle his thumbs if he could, or somesuch.
So he’s become a sort of house-husband dude around the Dream House lately; mucking out Nibbles, doing the cuisine stuff, washing the car, cleaning the pool. He even tries to fix the Mazda himself (as if…) which is, like, a total bust, because all the time we’ve had it nothing’s ever gone wrong with it. Still he seems, like, happy under the bonnet… I guess it can’t be easy hanging out with the world’s busiest babe.
Whatever. We both really, like, like the MX-5. It’s kinda cute for babes and just cool enough for dudes, even if it’s no way way cool. It is kind of expensive though; £18,775 of your English pounds. I bet we don’t have to pay anything like as much in, like, dollars back home… And Ken says he sometimes wishes the engine sounded a bit cooler when he’s, like, really going for it, but I guess he’s just totally tuned in to the sound of a good old American V8. For myself, I prefer to keep the speed down some and just ease my latest hairstyle along.
But at least Ken and I agree on one thing; the Mazda’s a blast to drive whether you’re just cruising or busting your buns, and totally easy to, like, totally live with. Which is more than can be said for him right now. He’d better watch his step or he might just suddenly find himself in a like, major babe drought. Like, any day now…