Once upon a time I caused a lot of fuss when in grade school I raised my hand in response to teacher’s inquiry who among us played with dolls. Every girl raised their hand; I was the only boy to do so. Incredulous, the teacher called on me to explain. I informed her I had several G.I. Joe dolls.  The boys in the class, who were dubious of my existence anyway, let out a collective cry of outrage: GI Joe was not a ‘doll’ they anxiously told the teacher (lest they be guilty by association of harboring Spo-like attributes). GI Joe was an ‘Action figure’.  Even at that age I smelled a rat.

Last weekend at the blogger weekend I received as a fabulous take home prize a ‘Billy”. Mr. Billy’s physique is fascinating, a sort of GI Joe on steroids. His proportions are the type that make me think of body dysmorphic disorder.  My blogger colleagues – wicked old screws that they are – wanted to know how proportionate are all his features. So we held an inspection. Unlike ‘Ken’ of “Barbie” fame who wears a nondescript unmovable undergarment, Mr Billy is anatomically correct – in a way. The collective noise eminating from the bloggers when Billy’s  Willy was revealed was not “Ooh!” as in fireworks but a collective ‘Yeew‘ the likes heard when you open a jam jar and find it moldy.  Some size queen gave Mr. Billy a John Thomas beyond description.

When I got him home and unwrapped him Someone retrieved the plastic container in which Mr. Billy was housed. He explained Billy is more valuable as a collector’s item if he is stays in the original box. I think this defeats the purpose of having a doll (or action figure). Don’t you play with dolls? On the other hand it is comforting to know he is entombed. It gives me the heebie-jeebies thinking he could be crawling about at night like some gay Talking Tina.

I have a fancy to make Mr. Billy his own Spo-shirt.

Next time I am at my parent’s house I hope to find my old GI Joes and bring them home to meet Mr. Billy. We can play gay bar. They will look gaunt in comparison, and no doubt mad-jealous of his features, but they can feel superior by their facial hair. Dolls can be such bitches.  At least the gay ones.