Oh, The Humanity!

Up until a few days ago, I had no particular vendetta against Bratz! dolls (except for the fact that their name comes with an exclamation point. This is unforgivable in my book). They were just those oddly slutty dolls with the smushed faces and the faux fur miniskirts and the lips the size of Jupiter. Vaguely disturbing, but that's life.
However, I just discovered that the Bratz! are starring in their own personal MOVIE. Is that okay with the world at large? Because it's not okay with me. What's the tagline? "Lobotomiez R Supercute!" "Brain Removal Is So Totally SQUEE!"? They remind me of trashier versions of the Aerie Girls who used to talk about Gilmore Girls on the CW. You know, "OHMYGOD OHMYGOD I LOVE LORELAI'S SHIRT SO MUCH AND I REALLY LIKE THE GUY RORY IS DATING HE IS SO PRETTY I LIKE WHEN BOYS HAVE, LIKE, HAIR AND EYES AND TEETH IT IS SO HAWT OHMYGOD DOES ANYBODY HAVE ANY OXYCONTIN?"

This is a picture of a Bratz doll. WHY ARE HER LIPS 90% OF HER FACE? WHY ARE HER JEANS EMBELLISHED WITH DIAMANTE? WHY IS SHE WEARING A CROPPED RED TUBE TOP? Do we seriously want the six-year-olds of today running around showing the world their vajayjays? I'm not some insane no-fun stickler who frowns upon young women who dare to expose their kneecaps and thinks Barbie is Satan spelled backwards (Barbie, although hardly a positive role model, at least seems like she would know how to spell CAT if she were a person), but buying your children Bratz can only encourage a love of recreational Robitussin and driving around in enormous Range Rovers with boys named Gregg and Chadd who are so thoroughly baked that they can't even see you.

Oh my God. When I have kids, I'm putting them in a convent. Who looks at this toy and thinks, "Hmmm. We should market this to children"? It looks like a tiny plastic sex slave. It is wearing a minuscule pleather skirt which is only SECONDS away from an unfortunate chocha-airing (Winona, your thoughts on this?), hooker boots, a little belly-exposing jacket, and a face full of makeup and hair extensions which frankly scream "I am a miniature porn star". I ain't no Quaker (I'm a big fan of the leather skirt and boots, except my leather skirt actually CLOAKS my REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS, and my boots don't have secret compartments in them to stash one-dollar bills in), but surely this can't be normal? And people WONDER why the youth of America keep putting their vaginas on display and passing out and ODing on cocaine and getting arrested? The answer lies in the Dolls aisle at Toys R' Us. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer the dolls that gradually make children develop eating disorders- these Bratz are just so blatantly disgusting.

She looks like a tiny extra from the set of "Greasy, Skeevy Porno- Part IV". It makes me want to go fetal and cry for awhile (tiny formal booty shorts! LEOPARD PRINT! Pancake makeup! Is someone out there trying to KILL ME?). If the only alternative to Bratz (and while we're on the subject of the name, can we talk about how not EVERYTHING HAS TO HAVE A Z IN IT? Try these on for size- Skankz? Prostitutez? Dirty Homewreckerz? Venereal-Dizeaze Carrierz?) is those prissy American Girl dolls, I will gladly devote my life to manufacturing them and sewing their little gingham aprons by hand. If you gave a Bratz doll a gingham apron, she would fashion it into a backless thong evening gown in a nanosecond. And then she would paint "SEXXXY" across the ass in rhinestones. And then she would splatter two big glitter handprints over the tetas.

I'm not even going to talk about the fact that this Sporty Spice Brat is wearing a HOT-PINK PLEATHER JUMPSUIT. It was okay for the real Sporty Spice, because it's not like she actually played sports. But presumably Sporty Brat would, you know, PLAY sports, and not just drop her pleather jumpsuit for the lacrosse captain. Whatever. My main problem is that the box says, Bratz Play Sportz. SPORTZ. No. Just...no. JUST SAY SPORTS. MY GOD. I need a cold shower, and a nap. Sweet Jesus.

Apparently, some forward-thinking, trenchant young intellect at the Bratz! corporation has decided to give the girls the one thing missing from their lives...
Their own personal brand of Pimpz. In Mac Daddy sunglasses, with air guitars. Haven't you heard? Brothel(z) are totally the new pink.
Bad enough that mothers are actually BUYING THEIR CHILDREN THESE TOYS- do we really need a MOVIE? It makes my head hurt. Times like these, I understand the appeal of Maria's abbey. I would have locked myself up in that shit FOREVER, and prayed so hard even Mother Superior would have wanted to take me out for a stress-relieving cocktail. To satisfy the need for a more...chaste children's toy, but still with a dash of sex appeal for those more promiscuous nine-year-olds, I have devised a toy which I like to call...Nunz™ !

Nunz™ are a stylin' nine-and-a-half inches from top to toe. They come with personalized rhinestone-encrusted wimples, and their flowing floor-length robes can be customized to read "Fraulein #1", "Sister SEXXXIE", or "Your Monk Thinks I'm Hot". They are also required to wear the traditional black slip-on loafers- however, there is a new alternative hot-pink faux-fur-covered loafer that can be substituted for the black ones.
Nunz™ are still in the development stage, but to get the main idea of their super-sexy (yet surprisingly chaste!) look, picture this...
+ = your average Nunz™ doll!
Order fast, because I have a funny feeling these babies will sell like hotcakes. Speaking of which, the first two hundred people to order a Nunz™ doll will also get their own personal Bible embroidered with their choice of slogans- "HOTCAKES", "BAPTIZED BABE" or "JESUS HAS MY CELL #". Call us now! 1800-Nunz, or you can email at TheNunzShallInheritTheEarth@msn.com.

Now, I'm really not a fan of any childrens' doll currently on the market (I was never a very dolly person. I did have Barbies, but I ended up tattooing and eyelinering them beyond recognition), but Bratz are the only doll that sends me into self-righteous flames of feminist anger. I hate to agree with the religious right on anything, but seriously, these dolls are not healthy. Why can't it be like in the old days, when our parents would just let us play with knives and guns and Advil in the sandbox? See, I turned out fine. Right? Right?
RIGHT?

I thought so.
To end this post, I will give you lurvely readers a little challenge.

Caption this Brat's thoughts. What is she thinking? The most amusing submission (i.e. the submission that makes me spit out my drink in unattractive snorting laughter the farthest) will win a SPECIAL GIFT!!!*
*The Special Gift will most likely involve a little message-mention in my next blog post about how cool you are. Also, I'll send you a Nunz™ doll when they're done being manufactured.

MUSIC, BOOKS, MOVIES + TV CORNER- Okay, I didn't get to make this joke in my last Potter-related post *takes deep breath and prepares blogosphere for extreme hilarity*
Pretty deathly, those hallows, eh?
*collapses in fit of mirth, snorting and cackling with glee at own wit*.
Shhh. Let it wash over you and enjoy it.
Anyway, I definitely did not read the book AGAIN, so be quiet. The fabulous Shelby pointed out in a comment last post that J.K. Rowling must have totally ripped the epilogue off from, like, fanfiction.net. True! So true! For SHAME, Rowling! Oh well, you wrote 7 perfect and amazing books so I forgive you.
I was just thinking about an episode of a TV show I saw at the beginning of the year, where all the characters conspire to rob Mick Jagger. It was odd, and awesome, and it made me think about which celebrity I would want to rob, you know, if I rolled that way.
I would rob Lindsay Lohan BLIND, so maybe she would stop spending all her damn money on BLOW.
I'm sorry, I felt bad for her at first because she is at least marginally more talented than most, and could one day be a decent, maybe even better-than-decent actress if she just stopped being such a cokehead, but suck it up. Keep your damn nose clean, kid. If you want an avalanche of white powder, go to Aspen.

Music-wise...um, embarrassingly enough, I've been listening to a lot of Journey. She's just a small town girl...living in a LONELY WO-ORLD...she took a midnight train going aaannnyyywheeere... speaking of which, did everyone else see the Bill+Hil campaign-song Sopranos spoof? I swear to God, it made my month. Doggone it, I kind of love those Clintons, I cannot lie.

Even though I'm completely rooting for Obama. Hopefully, he'll make an entertaining campaign video soon. And hopefully, it too will star Bill Clinton.
Also, I just discovered Guster's "Carol of Meows" and am already looking forward to shaping my Christmas around it.
Of course, the Beatles' "Rubber Soul" has been enchanting me. I've also been listening to Paul McCartney's "Maybe I'm Amazed", and it blows my mind. As does "Blackbird"- single most lovely lyrics of any Beatles song, in my opinion. Although that's a tough contest.
TV-wise...it's August, nothing is on. Oy. I'm going to have to better myself...through LITERATURE. Blech! Reading! Just kidding, I am a complete book whore.

SIGHTINGS- Your mom.
Yeah. I made a "your mom" joke. I saw your mom.
Look, there is NOTHING, all right? I saw a woman in a SCRUNCHIE yesterday. At the risk of sounding like the episode of SATC where Annoying Bradshaw rabbits on for two hours about how nobody in New York wears scrunchies and her poor, beleaguered new boyfriend finally sees the light and slowly starts to hate her as much as I did, scrunchies should be burned alongside Crocs in a communal ritualistic bonfire. Perhaps the Fug Girls could preside over it.

CURRENT ATTIRE- My new electric-blue T-shirt dress, with a waist-cinching belt, a white tank underneath, and my navy wedges. This will be my new summer standby outfit, I believe.

<3