WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH ALL THESE BROKEN DOLL HEADS?

Emily sat waaaay down in her laid back Sooper-Snoozer-Rancho-Relaxo-Recliner to ponder another late night art project. Just as a side note - This chair eats people. Although. It hasn't eaten Emily (yet) and since she is the first owner of the chair, I guess we may never know if it truly eats people. But...let me just say... Emily used to have 5 cats.

OK. Back to the doll heads. Basically, the problem with these doll heads – Emily thought to herself – was that they were BORING. They needed spicing up.

Emily approached the first doll head.

“Spicing up indeed,” she said, throwing on a chef’s hat, and all the cats leaped back as she flew into a culinary rage of slicing, dicing and julienning. She dipped the doll head in peanut butter, rolled it in sugar dust, sprinkled it with mp3 player, and then boiled it in skunk stink – and then baked it in her e-z bake oven until it was golden OMG orange and nicely yucky. “Perfect!” Emily yelled, “it looks just like Tyra Banks!”

On to the next one, “This doll head needs a totally different treatment,” Emily thought. “Maybe instead of the kitchen, I should look to…the garden.” She strapped on her bionic hoe and broke open the doll head, then packed it full of flowers and tomatoes until it looked scary. She sprinkled beanstalk seeds inside and then put the head back together with marshmallow fluff and a nail gun. She threw it into her e-z GROW oven until huge green tendrils of mutant, carnivorous, gross beanstalk had sprouted from the doll head, filled the e-z grow oven, filled the room, scared the cats, and started nibbling on Emily’s finger. “IT’S PERFECT,” Emily shouted, “On to the next one!!”

“Now, let’s not forget that this IS an art project. Why don’t we go into my studio for inspiration?” All the cats followed her nervously into the art studio, where Emily put on her beret, picked up 36 paintbrushes in her left hand and 649003 cans of spray paint in her right hand... and approached the doll head. A few suitcases of hot Dr. Pepper later and the doll head was a psychedelic rainbow of shocking lizard, bizarre blue and ridiculous red... but Emily wasn’t satisfied until she had welded on some Altoids Sours, soldered on some beakers and then nailed the finished doll head to a huge, unusual motorized scooter.

Finally, her doll heads were really good!

Fast forward to 988 years later. Emily had traveled all the way to San Francisco for the opening of her new art show, called Dipsy Dolls, and the critics were going crazy over it. Fashionable people from exotic places like Dipsy and Italy stood around in their designer Ireland and Underwear haircuts, sipping liquid fancy out of shoes and eating licorice shoestrings. Emily and her cats were hiding behind a massive sculpture of Britney Spears riding a duck, and spying on the crowd as they admired the Dipsy Doll heads.

“Dahling!” they said, “These dolls are dead! They’re dumpy! They’re ditzy! We haven’t seen doll heads this dumb since Degas!!”

From her hiding place, Emily and the cats laughed to themselves. “Hoophum!” said Emily, “Art critics really are a bunch of bublunging bulbous turnip faces!”

http://www.emilystrange.com/beware/games/badlibs/index.cfm