Barbies and Marshall

Once again I'm getting requests to blog. This is totally weird, I never thought it would happen to me. alas, it has.

When I was in kindergarten I had a friend named Marshall. He was a nice pale skinned fellow 5 yr. old. Marshall played with Barbies. Yep. Barbies. Now I didn't have an opinion back then of the situation and 10 years ago I thought, "how horrible and bad is that for boys playing with barbies?!?!"

Ok so here is my theory now.

Really Marshall was merely getting jumpstarted on his venture into being a man. If you notice, Barbi dolls have extra long hair. What woman do you know has straight perfect hair down to her thighs...really?

Marshall learned that girls like their hair a certain way and how to match clothing. I can't tell you how many times I am asked, "Does this look good? Does this make me look fat?"

Marshall then learns about shoes, accessories, corvettes, everything. What I would give to know all about the varieties of ridiculous additions my wife can have and what is desirable over this or that.

When I was 16 I worked at Bath and Body works and did a damn fine job. People thought I had problems and even called me homosexual...but c'mon. While your munching corney dogs and orange julius's I'm massaging ladies hands and necks with aromatherapy serums.

Gay? I think not. I'm surrounded by women!


So to my friend Marshall. I'm sure your reading this right now on your blackberry in the Cayman islands from a google alert. You've been waiting for this blog post for years to prove to us all you were a step ahead of all of us. Your a rich CEO and probably invented coffee cup sleeves and your currently surrounded by maids. And you probably can read womens thoughts.

As for me. I think I'm pretty smooth for buying my wife a gift certificate to a quilt store today for $20. She has no idea and hopefully she will still love me in the morning.

Marshall. You are the man.