I took very good care of my Barbies until I got to be about 15.

Then, I took them all out to the big trash can, piled them up, and tried to set them on fire. It didn't really work; I was too chicken to use lighter fluid, plastic only scorches, and the hair flamed out too quickly to really get a good blaze going.

I thought I was being all kinds of punk rock. It turns out I was just being normal:

Barbie’s house burned down, she flew off a cliff, (couch), in her van after the brakes failed, she drowned in her pool, she recreated the hilarious (albeit painful) ski jump accident we all saw at the opening of every “Wide World of Sports” program and sometimes Barbie would have the shit beat out of her or get shoved down the stairs by Miss America Barbie, the dark haired competitor.

I dropped her out my bedroom window, (on the second floor), just to see what would happen. I popped her legs and arms off, dyed her hair, cut her hair, decapitated her and she was left with a lot of marks made from a black marker to resemble bruises from her various mishaps.

Inspired by yet another stupid study, of course.