A long time ago, back when I was a virgin, Sears issued a yearly catalog. As far as I knew, it was the only catalog in the whole wide world, or at least the only one of its breadth that I knew about. Because it contained an entire section, seemingly thousands of pages, of nothing but toys. My sister and I would spend days upon days perusing the toy ads debating which ones were the best, which ones were the suck, and which ones we thought Santa might manufacture at the North Pole. Over the course of a couple of months, we would ear mark specific pages and Crayola specific to
A long time ago, back when I was a virgin, Sears issued a yearly catalog. As far as I knew, it was the only catalog in the whole wide world, or at least the only one of its breadth that I knew about. Because it contained an entire section, seemingly thousands of pages, of nothing but toys. My sister and I would spend days upon days perusing the toy ads debating which ones were the best, which ones were the suck, and which ones we thought Santa might manufacture at the North Pole. Over the course of a couple of months, we would ear mark specific pages and Crayola specific to
. . . . take young children there, and you can expect a few awkward questions. Like, "Daddy, why are those ladies in the very skimpy dresses (5 black dresses, one white with matching bridal veil) carrying a big plastic, naked doll with that very large penis? Who's face was that taped to the doll's head?"
. . . . take young children there, and you can expect a few awkward questions. Like, "Daddy, why are those ladies in the very skimpy dresses (5 black dresses, one white with matching bridal veil) carrying a big plastic, naked doll with that very large penis? Who's face was that taped to the doll's head?"
