Maiko Barbie Doll, Gold Label. She’s in perfect condition and includes her shoes, umbrella, stand, original box, and certificate of authenticity. She’s valued (out of box) at $350-400 but I’m starting the price at $325.
Please send an ask if you’d like to make an offer. I am willing to haggle. I am very short on funds so I am in a rather desperate need of some money. If you know anyone who’d be interested, feel free to spread the word. Thank you. <3
Two conversations with my late father. a poem by @ryanlowrie
I was nine years old sitting on my bed reading the newest copy of Fangoria Fangoria was the gold seal label best horror movie magazine Horror movie magazines now are just DVD catalogues I bought that magazine with my own money I earned shoveling snow, dirt, and on more than one occasion bird shit I was sitting in my room which walls were covered with posters I bought of villains from a variety of pop culture sources; Darth Vader, the Juggernaut, Zod, Green Goblin, KHAN!!!, and a myriad of other dastardly diabolicals I almost always root for the villain. Dad came in my room with two rolled up tubes of poster print and said that it was time we got rid of this kid stuff and put some man posters up. I told him that I already had man posters up. Khan was genetically and philosophically enhanced but still just a man. The posters were of the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders and an Italian sports car of some kind, could have been a Lamborghini or a Maserati. I don’t know. They all sound like cheese to me. I tried to reorganize the space on my walls but dad insisted these new poster replace the Riddler and Rhino and not join them. So up they went and Dad has happier. Fast forward into my 20th year on the third shopping quadrant from the sun and I had returned from living on a friend’s couch in British Columbia after dropping out of an entry level journalism course at a tech school and I’m working part time at my dad’s machine shop and part anywhere else. I’m taking a piss in the only toilet at the shop. I put my junk back into my durable work slacks. I wash my hands and I step out of the bathroom and my dad is standing there in the hallway and he says that we have to talk. My mother had been doing some bookkeeping for him and they could hear me urinating. So if I didn’t mind, while urinating, instead of urinating directly into the middle of the bowl, I should aim my stream at the inner side of the bowl so that it’s quieter. I said absolutely not and quit a few days later. He died a couple years later, I still root for the villain and continue to piss how, when, and as loud as I like. and scene.