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Abstract

it looked like a strawberry cupcake. But it was the beginning of the end for Barbie thanks to the Christmas morning debacle of putting her abomination of Dream House together.That was the year I wrote what I consider my magnum opus — a <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/RH8ANFMNSBS86?ref=pf_ov_at_pdctrvw_srp">product review of the 2013 Barbie Dream House on Amazon</a> which I’d titled “Regret”. It’s one of the best pieces of writing I’ve ever produced.Now, nearly ten years after I posted it, and in the spirit of shitting on everything that Barbie stands for, I’m sharing it here on Medium. Apologies, in advance, for the liberal use of ALL CAPS.<h1 id="2fb8">Regret: An ancient Amazon review of Barbie’s 2013 Dream House</h1>You have to understand what you’re purchasing when you make the decision to buy Barbie’s latest Dream House. You’re buying THE DREAM — the idea that through all of her struggles, through all the obstacles in her life, the ups…the downs…the constant upheavals of moving from job to job and house to house…Barbie has managed to succeed in life. She has finally MADE IT! This is Barbie living LARGE.The Dream House is the full realization of Barbie’s highest aspiration — to live in sparkly pink suburban splendor. With this house, all of Barbie’s needs have been met (except for the need to take a bath, since there’s only a shower stall and one bathroom — which seems a bit unrealistic given the size of the home…but I digress…)Barbie will be happy. Your wide-eyed daughter, niece or granddaughter will also be happy because, and I can’t say this enough, the DREAM has been REALIZED.However, if you waited until Christmas morning to take this thing out of the box and put it together, your dreams of having a relaxing and joyous Christmas morning will not, in fact, have been realized. That’s because the instructions are in some ancient form of Sanskrit and are nearly impossible to decipher.Thankfully, Mattel put up a video on YouTube explaining how to assemble this thing, but even that seems to be missing some

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steps. Also, BE WARNED, once you snap the pillars in place, they are impossible to remove. This is important when you realize that an operational elevator is dependent on placement of said pillars — one of which is now affixed to the floor of my daughter’s dream house via the liberal use of scotch tape.You’ll need perseverance because, after getting this thing mostly assembled, you will realize (with a sinking heart) that not only is it poorly designed, but it is pretty much a big pile of plastic crap. At this point you’ll probably glance worriedly at your significant other and say something like, “Do you think it’s too late to return it and get the newer XBox instead?” He (or she) will likely shake their head and say, “But the pillars, my god, the pillars can’t be removed…”And even if by some herculean effort you manage to dismantle the thing and get it back in the box (a box whose cover images are SO FILLED WITH PROMISE), you’ll have to face the child — her eyes, brimming with disappointment, her hands clutching two shiny new Barbies, her dreams dashed. That’s when you’ll finally understand the harsh truth — you’re stuck with this thing. Did I mention it’s three and half feet tall?So, think HARD before you buy this because once it’s out of the box, it’s yours…forever. And, remember, as financially savvy as Barbie has shown herself to be, she is as susceptible as the rest of us are to biting off more mortgage debt than she can chew. Would not recommend this product to a friend (or enemy).Addendum: Emily played with the Dream House for about a month and then it became a painful reminder of aspirations unrealized. We moved it around her room, then to a hallway, then to a corner of the dining room until she admitted she didn’t want it after all.We gave it to one of her school classmates that very same year. She had the house for about nine months and we collectively breathed a sigh of relief when it was gone. Emily then gathered up all her dolls, brushed their hair, made sure they were dressed in the sparkliest of clothing, and donated them to a local women’s shelter.</article></body>

My Horrific Experience with Barbie’s 2013 Dream House

In honor of the blockbuster new Barbie movie, I’m revisiting my biggest Christmas morning fail.

Thanks to the new Barbie movie, I’m having PTSD-like flashbacks of my daughter’s Barbie years — the pink outfits, the brittle plastic accessories, Barbie’s perpetually smiling face staring up at me from every surface. It was a living hell.

From the age of three until she was nine, Emily (now nineteen), was infatuated with Barbie. She’d inherited a cousin’s collection of Barbies one fateful Christmas day, and it was love at first sight. Those first few battered Barbies spiraled into an obsession. Her love of Barbie and her collection of dolls and accessories grew until Christmas of 2013 .

That was the year we bought the Dream House.

Here’s the thing. The 2013 Barbie Dream House was an absolute piece of shit. Emily begged me to get it for her even though her interest in Barbie dolls had been steadily dwindling in favor of a new obsession — My Little Pony. If they make a brilliantly satirical movie about that franchise, I’m definitely going to see it.

So it was Christmas of 2013 and my older daughter was fully recovered from the liver transplant she’d had in February to remove a malignant tumor. I was feeling celebratory and hopeful. I got the $200 Dream House because I was determined to make Christmas as perfect as possible for both my girls.

Here’s some advice for the new parents of the world — if you buy your kid a complicated and expensive toy for Christmas, make sure you assemble it before Christmas morning.

Emily briefly loved the house which had a toilet that made real flushing sounds (we removed the batteries when the toilet began flushing by itself — all day long). It had an elevator that (mostly) worked and so many pink accessories it looked like a strawberry cupcake. But it was the beginning of the end for Barbie thanks to the Christmas morning debacle of putting her abomination of Dream House together.

That was the year I wrote what I consider my magnum opus — a product review of the 2013 Barbie Dream House on Amazon which I’d titled “Regret”. It’s one of the best pieces of writing I’ve ever produced.

Now, nearly ten years after I posted it, and in the spirit of shitting on everything that Barbie stands for, I’m sharing it here on Medium. Apologies, in advance, for the liberal use of ALL CAPS.

Regret: An ancient Amazon review of Barbie’s 2013 Dream House

You have to understand what you’re purchasing when you make the decision to buy Barbie’s latest Dream House. You’re buying THE DREAM — the idea that through all of her struggles, through all the obstacles in her life, the ups…the downs…the constant upheavals of moving from job to job and house to house…Barbie has managed to succeed in life. She has finally MADE IT! This is Barbie living LARGE.

The Dream House is the full realization of Barbie’s highest aspiration — to live in sparkly pink suburban splendor. With this house, all of Barbie’s needs have been met (except for the need to take a bath, since there’s only a shower stall and one bathroom — which seems a bit unrealistic given the size of the home…but I digress…)

Barbie will be happy. Your wide-eyed daughter, niece or granddaughter will also be happy because, and I can’t say this enough, the DREAM has been REALIZED.

However, if you waited until Christmas morning to take this thing out of the box and put it together, your dreams of having a relaxing and joyous Christmas morning will not, in fact, have been realized. That’s because the instructions are in some ancient form of Sanskrit and are nearly impossible to decipher.

Thankfully, Mattel put up a video on YouTube explaining how to assemble this thing, but even that seems to be missing some steps. Also, BE WARNED, once you snap the pillars in place, they are impossible to remove. This is important when you realize that an operational elevator is dependent on placement of said pillars — one of which is now affixed to the floor of my daughter’s dream house via the liberal use of scotch tape.

You’ll need perseverance because, after getting this thing mostly assembled, you will realize (with a sinking heart) that not only is it poorly designed, but it is pretty much a big pile of plastic crap. At this point you’ll probably glance worriedly at your significant other and say something like, “Do you think it’s too late to return it and get the newer XBox instead?” He (or she) will likely shake their head and say, “But the pillars, my god, the pillars can’t be removed…”

And even if by some herculean effort you manage to dismantle the thing and get it back in the box (a box whose cover images are SO FILLED WITH PROMISE), you’ll have to face the child — her eyes, brimming with disappointment, her hands clutching two shiny new Barbies, her dreams dashed. That’s when you’ll finally understand the harsh truth — you’re stuck with this thing. Did I mention it’s three and half feet tall?

So, think HARD before you buy this because once it’s out of the box, it’s yours…forever. And, remember, as financially savvy as Barbie has shown herself to be, she is as susceptible as the rest of us are to biting off more mortgage debt than she can chew. Would not recommend this product to a friend (or enemy).

Addendum: Emily played with the Dream House for about a month and then it became a painful reminder of aspirations unrealized. We moved it around her room, then to a hallway, then to a corner of the dining room until she admitted she didn’t want it after all.

We gave it to one of her school classmates that very same year. She had the house for about nine months and we collectively breathed a sigh of relief when it was gone. Emily then gathered up all her dolls, brushed their hair, made sure they were dressed in the sparkliest of clothing, and donated them to a local women’s shelter.