#totsy

[horsefigureoftheday]

Horse figure of the day: Totsy Greg Camping Cowboy Horse

[smallerplaces]

Teen Skipper's new friend: Lacey the Totsy Teen

I was recklessly browsing eBay for 9.5" Skipper-equivalent dolls when I chanced on this Totsy "Lacey," a teen doll released in the mid-1990s, right before official Skipper hit her growth spurt. For $8 and a size that doesn't come up much with Totsy, I had to bring her home.

She's now taking a little retreat in a ziplock bag of baking soda, as she arrived reeking of cigarette smoke. Next week, she may be ready to boil wash and restyle her hair.

[dazzle-bright]

Got this 1983 Totsy fakie (cotton candy’s evil twin) at an antique mall this weekend. She looks like she’s plotting something…

[sweetangelshelldoctor]

oh...

a new person comes in saying she needs help. but something about the way she looks or acts maybe seems a bit wrong

but were not about to deny someone help because of vibes...

i dont like how she tells us to not be afraid

oh ! hi damsel

she says shell handle this.

she opens up her head and.. no internel sickness. good

that means just a quick acetone bath and hair wash

just a uick in and out... a routien check up maybe (do toys do that?)

she leaves prety fast... but something still seems off..

but theres no time to worry about that. we gotta upkeep the hospital while celesties gone and we cant waste time worrying about strange unicorns can we?? Back to work!

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop, do you think?

I don't remember, but I know it was less than 25!

[spookythesillyfella]

WOWIE ZOWIE I CAN'T BELIEVE IT X33 [ confetti confetti !! ] I'M THE HAPPIEST BOY IN THE WORLD EVEEERR !!! ^_^

[queenofsquids]

Things I got at the thrift store today:

A Popple bottle but zero Popples to be found (I looked so hard), bringing me up to two total in-the-wild Popple finds in all these years

Generic Totsy wearing someone's crazy good beaded crochet skillz

Barbie case

Seriously I don't know how they did this. It looks so uniform. And it's heavy.

And inside the carry case, an assortment:

[nostalgia-tblr]

reading pornographic fanfiction where three times in as many paragraphs it refers to "her small hand" and the adjective is always there for that noun so now i'm thinking does she have one small hand and one massive one then? is that what's going on here?

[rudycarter]

Sauces and Condiments - Hotsie Totsie Taco Sauce This spicy homemade taco sauce recipe doubles as a dipping sauce and is easily adjustable to your personal tastes and heat levels.

[smash-pansy]

Hotsie Totsie Taco Sauce Recipe This spicy homemade taco sauce recipe doubles as a dipping sauce and is easily adjustable to your personal tastes and heat levels.

[chubunited]

The totsies!!! they are hotsie!!

[smallerplaces]

2023 in Review, part 4: Teen baby sitters

My teens got an unexpected addition late in the year with the arrival of Remco Babysitters Club "Kristy." She was in an eBay lot with unhelpful photos and limited description, but between the two dolls in it, at least one was definitely on my wish list as something, and the price with free shipping was great.

Doing a body comparison with the two 10-inch girls reveals a lot of similarity. Lacy (Totsy) has bendier legs due to their internal wire, while Kristy (Remco) has regular click legs that don't click very well any more. Lacy has a more developed chest. Kristy's arms are set more "outward." These bodies are so similar, though, that I now wonder if Lacey is not a Skipper clone (since she's neither anime-eyed nor tall), but a Babysitters Club clone. The timing on mold stamps is plausible.

A quick Googling for Babysitters Club dolls isn't showing me a short-haired blonde, but cloning is sometimes more of the concept than of the specifics. Lacey would have been compatible with them and able to wear most clothing.

The addition of Kristy does raise the question of how much height equals age. Babysitters Club gals were canonically in junior high, so 14 at the absolute oldest. I've been treating Lacey as about 16, and thus old enough to date canonically 16-year-old Teen Skipper.

From the faces, Kristy is significantly younger than Lacey, Honestly, Lacey's proportions look to me like she's the younger sister of a 14-inch adult, not a 12-inch adult. However, 14-inch is a size that doesn't interest me, so Kristy just hit her growth spurt, while Lacey is naturally petite.

Kristy is too young to be a rival in Lacey and Skipper's romance.

Kristy makes a reasonable sister for Creata "Today's Girls" Hillary, though Hillary's head is larger than Kristy's, and her expression looks more mature.

The parentage of Kid Kore Baby Allison remains unknown, though she now is very well-supplied with sitters! Acquiring Baby Allison was one of those weird unexplained urges that hits a doll collector occasionally. If I were Mom, I'd soon have two of each Kid Kore baby, plus representatives from multiple other brands. However, I bought my favorite baby first, so there's no need for more. The only other baby that tempts me is the Totsy Native American baby, as that one also has hip and shoulder joints.

Over the long haul, if I keep Kristy, that skintone mismatch between head and body, plus the worsening condition of her legs, makes it likely I'd find a better articulated body for her. I'm not sure how well she fits into the community, but every time I question buying her, I notice she has amazing hair (much better quality than the usual 1990s fiber) and a sweet, if someone vacant, face.

[y3nze1]

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍 | c.3

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: I / II / III / IV / V / VI

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Happy Readings!

"Y/n!~" Loralie called out. purse in hand, she ran towards you, happily approaching, clearly there was an interesting news that she couldn't keep to herself with that kind of energy. "Y/n..!" you cut her off for a moment. "Loralie, if it's a party, i swear i am not willing to hook myself on some hooch, you know tha-" she pressed a finger on your lips. "Shush, this is most likely the party of the century, Y/n!"

You let out a soft chuckle. "You always say that.. and you know my answer. as always.. it's a n-" she cut you off again. With that, you rolled your eyes. "I already bought you an outfit. stop yappin, take a bath. get yourself ready for tonight, so we are gonna cut a rug as i say so!" she exclaimed. crossing your arms as you responded with a sigh.

You could see the excitement on Loralie's face as she spoke of the upcoming party. You couldn't help but feel a little intrigued, wondering what could be in store for the night. Not wanting to disappoint ger, you nodded along, doing as she wanted. "Alright, alright," you said with a groan, giving in to her enthusiasm. "I'll get cleaned up and get ready."

Loralie beamed at you, clearly pleased with your response. She took your hand and led you into the bathroom, helping you with your bath preparations. "Darlin, We gotta make sure you shine, you dazzle, and hotsy totsy!~" she ran the bath, pouring in the things needed to make it purely bubble. As you bathed, you couldn't help but wonder about the mystery event that Loralie had planned for the night. You weren't sure what to expect from then on.

Patted dry, you followed along behind her as she pulled your hand out the bathroom. giggling to herself. "Alright Darlin.. don't you worry. i am goin to make ya' stunnin." she softly gazed at you. sitting you down by the vanity mirror. drying down your hair.

For the next few hours. you spent the day getting ready. a light blush on your cheek, just the right amount of soft mascara. and a beautiful shade of red lipstick, of course. you weren't keen on using makeup, but my goodness, did you look like a shining star for the evening. coming to dazzle upon everyone just once for a span of thousands of years.

As you finished getting ready, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building inside you. Everything was just perfect - the dress, the makeup, the hair... you felt like a princess, like a star, ready to take on the world. And with Loralie by your side, you felt like anything was possible.

Loralie looked just as excited as you were, and as you stood up from the vanity, she handed you a gift-wrapped box. "Well, I might as well give you your present early.." she said with a smile, handing you the box. You opened it up, revealing a beautiful necklace - a silver chain with a beautiful blue jewel at the center. It was the perfect finishing touch to your outfit.

As you put on the necklace, Loralie took your head to the mirror. smiling softly, "Look at that darlin.. do you know what i see?.." you paused for a moment, taking a good look at yourself. "i see beautiful, dashing, wonderful woman.." she sighed, pure satisfied. "oh my, you're there too!" she let out a laugh as you rolled your eyes in annoyance. "oh I'm just teasing, Y/n.. Don't be such a bearcat!~"

Loralie took your hand and led you out of the room, down the stairs and out the door. You stood outside, feeling the cool air on your skin and feeling overwhelmed by the excitement. Loralie ushered you into a waiting car, and soon you were on your way to the mysterious party that Loralie had been planning. The ride was full of anticipation - you had no idea what to expect, but you knew that whatever it was, it was going to be a night to remember.

As the car pulled up to the venue, you could see that it was a sprawling estate, lit up with countless lights and surrounded by an intricate garden. Loralie hopped out of the car and you followed, feeling your heart pound as you approached the front door.

You took a deep breath, ready to face whatever the night had in store. With Loralie by your side, you felt like you could take on the world.

The party was unlike anything you had ever seen. The estate was teeming with people dressed to the nines, sipping on champagne and cocktails, and dancing to the music of a live band. The atmosphere was electric, and you found yourself being drawn into the excitement.

As Loralie pulled you along, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and majesty. The venues, the attire, the people; everything was so elegant and refined. It was a world completely different from the one you were used to.

As you made your way through the crowd, you couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and amazement. The venue was a testament to human ingenuity and creativity, and you found yourself lost in the excitement and beauty of it all. But despite the grandeur and majesty, there was also a sense of warmth and community. The crowd was filled with people of all ages, nationalities, and backgrounds, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and having a good time. It was a truly international scene.

And through it all, Loralie was by your side. She helped you navigate the crowd and introduced you to various people, helping you make connections and network. The night was full of possibilities and opportunities, and you found yourself feeling more confident and empowered than ever before. As the night wore on, the party only became more and more lively. The music grew louder, the drinks flowed freely, and the dancing grew more wild and frenetic. You couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom and joy, as if you were part of something bigger than yourself.

For a moment you stopped, you stood by the middle of the crowd, catching the look of a young man, staring back at you. The moment felt like a stop motion, You felt a flutter in your chest, that familiar feeling that came over you, nervous, you looked away instead. You looked around the crowd, scanning for Loralie. She was still talking to an array of people, but she caught your glance and motioned for you to come over. You cut through the crowd, avoiding people's drinks and plates with ease, but then you felt someone bumping into you. Before you could turn around to apologize, a soft voice sounded in your ear.

"Watch your step, my dear. You wouldn't want to trip and fall, now do you?" That voice, that particular voice, The voice was deep and melodic, and a pair of warm, brown eyes met yours. You felt like time had stopped on you again, the music was faded and the only thing you could hear was his voice. Finally after a good while of staring, you brushed your shoulders gently and nervously.

"Oh," your voice sounded small and shy compared to his, "no.. no, i-i'm sorry, i didn't look at my surroundings that well." He chuckled, and you felt your heart fluttering. "Well, better watch out next time, my dear." He held out his hand, looking at you deeply, "I'm Alastor, Alastor Altruist."

No, is this actually real? you really are talking to him, face to face. Alastor, the radio man, Your fingers gently wrapped around his, and you smiled shyly, "Pleasure to meet you, Alastor, I'm Y/n, Y/n L/n". Your voice sounded weak, but your smile was bright.

He looked into your eyes, and he leaned in slightly, he out his hand once more, muttering. "would you like to have a dance with me, Ms. Y/n?". You were still processing what was happening when you both started walking towards the center of the floor. Alastor held your hand and his other hand wrapped around your waist as he leaned in closer to you.

The song playing was slow and romantic, and as you both started to sway in time to the beat, you felt a strange sense of calm and serenity wash over you. You couldn't help but notice the way Alastor looked at you - his eyes seemed to pierce right through you. "Your voice, it seems so familiar to me." he whispered, you kept your mouth shut at the moment. not daring to talk back. instead you continued to dance with him. utterly silent. basking in each one's gaze.

You felt like you were the only two people in existence, lost in a world of your own. You closed your eyes and lost yourself in the moment, oblivious to anything else around you. For that brief moment in time, you were perfectly content, perfectly happy. But as the song came to an end, you were suddenly snapped back to reality by the loud applause and cheers of those around you.

You smiled at the sudden outburst of the crowd, giggling. Alastor, turned to you. "Would you like to get a Wiggle on with me? a stroll by the garden nearby, per say?" in response, you nodded. he pulled your hand, leading you through the crowd as you two giggled. You followed Alastor through the large crowded party, the smell of food and alcohol filling the air as you navigated towards the garden. The night air was cool and refreshing, and the sound of the party began to fade into the distance.

As Alastor led you onto a small footpath, you began to notice the beauty of the dark night sky, illuminated by the lights of the city below. The sky was so clear that you could make out the shapes of the galaxies, and the stars seemed so close you felt like you could reach out and touch them.

"Oh, this is quite the view, isn't it?" Alastor said as he sat down on the bench, "I never get tired of this place, it's so peaceful." He pulled a cigarette case out of his pocket, "Do you want a butt, my dear?" he offered one to you. You shook your head no, not staring blankly at the sky.

For a second, you looked down. staring at your feet. "I've heard your radio podcast before." he looked at you, his smile widened. "really?.. then you must also know this frequent requestor of mine, have you?" He's mentioning you. you only nodded back in response. "For a listener, I've never been this.. smitten with this particular girl before. she'd call almost everyday, requesting me songs, non-stop. and.. every time, I'd pick up my telephone. i find myself hoping, she's on the other line."

He paused. looking at you. "I'm rambling, aren't i?" You felt yourself blushing slightly as Alastor continued to speak about you. He was right, you had been obsessed with his radio show for as long as you could remember. You listened to every episode, waiting for your turn to call and request a song.

And now, here you were, sitting next to him, listening to him talk about you. It felt like a dream, like something that could never really be. You smiled wide, feeling your heart race in your chest. "No, no, please continue," you said, your voice soft and barely above a whisper, "I.. i love hearing you talk" then you realized what you said. you let out a cough. "i-i.. mean about.. her, i like hearing.. umm.. you talk about her." He laughed at your attempt, finding it quite endearing. "it's fine, i don't mind. it's nice to meet someone who's very interested in you" You breathed a sigh of relief as Alastor laughed, finding it quite endearing. You were relieved that he didn't think you were weird for accidentally saying that you loved hearing him talk. You felt your face turn bright red, but you couldn't help but smile.

"It's nice to meet someone who's so interested in me too," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, You laughed as well, feeling more at ease. You knew that you were probably coming across as a total loser, but you couldn't help it. Being around Alastor made you feel a way that you couldn't even begin to describe. You felt like you could talk to him forever and never get bored. "You've mentioned this caller of yours. and.. you've striked me curious. She sounds to be quiet.. delightful, in your perspective.. i-i just wanna know.. what would you say to her if.. she were hear, the one listening.. to you."

Alastor paused for a moment, considering your question. "Well, I suppose I would tell her how much her calls mean to me.. And how much I look forward to each and every one.. every single song requests of her" He looked down at you, his face serious. "I would tell her that she's a source of inspiration.. at least.. my inspiration, that she makes me feel like I'm not just a radio host, but something more." He looked back at the sky, breathing in deeply. "I would tell her that she's the most special girl in the world, and that I'm glad i had the chance to even cross my god forsaken path with hers.."

You fell silent, turning to look at him. "So.. what's her name?" you stared at him. he smiled, looking up to the night sky.

"Daisy, My lovely, Darling, Daisy.."

[irrlicht-writes]

Hi! So I've been writing a fanfic (etched into your bones) for longer than I thought I would and if you've checked it out (do now if you haven't yet, I still know how to write) you would realise that Alastor is using quite the slang in there. As I'm posting the chapters on ao3 massively late (around 3AM my time) I don't have the werewithdrawll to comb back through and find the slang I've used to translate. I had planned to make the last chapter a full translation, but since that gets being pushed back, I will do it here. Slang list under the cut! And do check my fanfic out! (I hear it's quite passable.)

Quilt: alcoholic beverage that keeps you warm

Di Mi: My goodness! / Holy shit!

Bunny: someone who's lost, but endearingly

Sockdollager: event/action of great importance

Clip Joint: night club with rich patrons

Flat Tire: indicating one's date didn't meet expectations

Blue Serge: a real sweetheart

Absent Treatment: dancing with an inexperienced/awkward partner

(It's) Jake: (it's) fine/okay

Cash or Check?: Kiss me now or kiss me later?

Cast a kitten: throw a temper tantrum

Hit on All Sixes: nail it one-hundred percent

Ish Kabibble: Who cares? / No worries!

Ankle: (to) walk

Tell it to Sweeney: Tell it to someone who would believe that!

Bushwa: Bullshit

Don't take any wooden nickels: Don't do anything dumb!

Bimbo: macho man

Hotsy-Totsy: attractive, pleasing to the eye

Sheik: attractive male

Bluenoses: someone deemed a killjoy

Dewdroppers: lollygaggers, a slacker, often unemployed

Kick the Gong Around: to smoke opium

Whoopee: have a good time / fuck

Middle Aisle: getting married

Bank's closed!: Stop making out!

Wurp: someone seen as a buzzkill

Zozzled: shitfaced

Darb: wonderful; splendid

Alarm clock: chaperone for a social event

Torpedo: a thug, hitman

Icy mitt: rejection from the object of desire/affection

Insured: to be engaged to marry

I will update as I drop more slang, naturally. I hope this helps! If I've missed any, let me know.

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on November 10th, 1978 - Queen Story!

"Jazz" album released in the UK

👉 The seventh studio album

➡️ 12/12/1978 - Circus Magazine

🔸In praise of ‘JAZZ’

The boys conjure up a bizarre junket by Mark Mehler

On Bourbon Street, in the heart of New Orleans’ fabled French Quarter, the sign reads, “Bob Harrington-Chaplain of Bourbon Street.” Upstairs, the freelance minister administers to the wicked minions below, while across the street, the Hotsy Totsy lounge features naked women parading across an oak bar from dawn to dusk, and next door, the “X-rated Shop” specializes in scatological posters and joy sticks.

This is Freddie Mercury’s favourite American city, where the Mississippi ends its majestic flow and zealots with big dreams fight a losing battle against hustlers, procurers, and all purveyors of sleaze. It is Freddie Mercury’s favourite city because the lead singer and bucktoothed front man of Queen is, above all, an actor. And in New Orleans, anyone can be anyone they want to be. Tonight, October 31, 1978-Halloween-Freddie Mercury and Queen have flown in 80 reporters from the U.S., Europe, Latin America and Japan, to see a show and be a part of a show at the same time. The third concert on Queen’s 28-city U.S. tour is in the ornate Civic Auditorium. Above the stage are listed the names of the mighty: Shakespeare, Michelangelo, Cellini, Durer, Gounod. Out of the soft blue and green lights and smoke, Freddie Mercury struts like a rooster, striking ballet poses, under an astral guitar blare that neatly skirts the sharp edges of rock & roll. The melodies are undistinguished, but the constant tempo changes of “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “We Will Rock You”, keep an audience awake for nearly two hours of uninterrupted music. The lighting show is one of rock’s most ambitious. Eerie purple lights shine out over the heads of the audience, making their hair seem cloudlike and inanimate. At the midpoint of the show, a smaller stage is lowered from the ceiling and 400 lamps meld into the sheer white plane of curtain light. Freddie is a whirling dervish, dominating every corner of the stage.

“Some people call this song ‘Spread Your Legs’, he tells the audience, introducing ‘Spread Your Wings’. “And I like it that way”.

Starting out in black sequins, he comes out for the first encore bedecked in orange hot pants, dancing around like Peter Pan. For the second encore he’s wearing a revealing, white body stocking. As he wails ‘We Are The Champions’, his voice warbles with mock emotion, and he grasps the microphone for support. At the apex of the triumphant denouement, the top executives of Elektra Records, who have sat smiling throughout the show, arise as one and walk out. Moments later, the show closes with a taping of ‘God Save The Queen’. Body and soul spent, Freddie ambles off stage, drained and spark-less. But Halloween night in New Orleans has just begun.

Back in the ballroom of the Fairmont Hotel, over 400 people have gathered to await Queen and much on a sumptuous table of hors d’oeuvres, such as Oysters Rockfeller and Shrimp Creole. A Dixieland band plays uninspired jazz jingles, until, shortly before midnight, the Olympia Brass band comes marching through the hall accompanied by Queen-the mercurial Mercury, the winsome Brian May, the puckish John Deacon, the velvety Roger Taylor. Suddenly, like a giant circus orchestrated by a deranged ringmaster, a legion of strippers, vulgar fat-bottomed dancers, snake charmers, drag queens, and bizarrely festooned revellers, begin to strut their stuff before the assembled masses. Freddie Mercury is besieged by hungry autograph seekers, groupies and fame-worshippers. People begin shielding their clothes, as an ever-imaginative photographer snaps Freddie signing the bare backside of a willowy transvestite. Freddie begins sucking on his giant overbite nervously, and by 2 a.m., he is mercifully gone. Brian May, who seems to be the true organizer of the night’s carnival, is cornered by persistent Japanese newshounds. “It’s wonderful,” he keeps saying. “It’s so nice to be back.” As the evening wears on, epicene men and butch women act out charades of power that would have embarrassed Hemingway. Three obese black women in g-strings do a pathetic bump and grind, and another female participant amuses a small gaggle of onlookers by putting a cigarette in an unlikely place. People leave to check out the scene on Bourbon Street and drift back to the party like cigar smoke. At 4 a.m., a Queen security guard, haggard and irritable, inquires when it will all be over. “Queen wants the naked disco dancers going to dawn,” informs his partner. And it does. The following day, Queen reappears at a press conference at Brennan’s, one of the French Quarter’s most elegant restaurants. Again, it is Roger Taylor and Brian May who dominate the conversation, as Freddie Mercury seems vaguely preoccupied. The subject of all this is ‘Jazz’, Queen’s new album, which contains no jazz. “People think we take ourselves a lot more seriously than we actually do,” says Roger Taylor. ‘Jazz’, Queen’s reunion with former producer Roy Thomas Baker, offers ‘Mustapha’, an up-tempo Hebrew rocker; ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’, a song that owes a lot to Pure Prairie League’s ‘Amie’; and more indulgent rhapsodies like ‘Jealousy’ and ‘Bicycle Race’, with its topical references to Star Wars, Jaws, and Superman. The ad campaign, like everything about the Band, goes to the limit of good taste: 11 bare-chested, major-league-yabboed women racing bicycles.

“It’s cheeky”, admits Freddie, “naughty, but not lewd. Certain stores, you know, won’t run our poster. I guess some people don’t like to look at nude ladies.”

Freddie, 32, was born in Zanzibar and educated in India, and was a childhood table tennis and hockey prodigy. He studied art and became a graphic designer and illustrator, having given up piano lessons in the fourth grade. But he continued singing, fronting his first band at 14 and forming Queen with Roger and Brian in 1970. After the routine easy grilling, Mercury is cornered outside. “You seem to be removed from the character up on stage. Is that really you?”

“No,” says Freddie, “of course it’s an act.”

He denies pandering to gays; or for that matter, to anyone. He hints at a quiet, restless man who needs to step outside of himself for ego-stimulation.

“I have fun wearing all those costumes,” he says. “I can really cut loose up there”.

Freddie is then swiftly ushered out, and again, Brian May is left behind to field the endless questions of the Japanese. The two-day junket, painstakingly directed by and for Queen, ends with a few straggling journalists eating Bananas Foster and being more cynical than usual. Outside, on Bourbon Street, a folk singer entertains an empty house of red velour seats, affirming that a falling tree makes a sound whether it’s heard or not. Which conjures up something Brian May had said about Queen constantly seeking “direct communication with our audience.” For all the words that describe Queen’s trip to New Orleans, direct is surely not one.

[spookythesillyfella]

sketchbooks makin art !! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

-

mmmm yes i wanted to do some random art and i decided that she'd be the perfect lil guy to draw in different styles and poses and allat because she's hotsy-totsy 💌

✧° character credits :

@scoliosis-inflicter [sketchy nr 1]

@francarieq [sketchy nr 2]

me [sketchy nr 3]