Dollhouse that is, and Dawn is thrilled to finally meet her hearthrob!



But Davy Jones isn't! Davy Baby had all the Dawns in da house swooning til Andy came along,
now they keep trying to upstage eachother...it's pathetic really...

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Wow How funny! Cute Andy...not so much on Davy.

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Michelle, you're so funny!

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Save the Dawns!

Who's That Doll?

actually i thought this was suz, i thought she had andy gibb at her house somehow!!! doesn't she work at a radio station? i thought she stole him or something!! LOL that would have been funny!!!

but this is almost as good as suz stealing andy gibb from her work LOL

cute michelle!!! ol davy what's his face don't stand a chance!!!! LOL

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Funny, Michelle!

I'm sure Dawn and Andy will spend many a happy evening running their fingers through each other's long hair.

As for Davy, I'm sure there are some Little Kiddles that will be into him ---as long as he doesn't have a "widdle diddle."

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OMG Colleen! That was almost a spit-take! And I'm sitting at my DH's computer. Don't DO that! LOL

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Save the Dawns!

Who's That Doll?

ROTFL at all your comments!

Colleen, great idea, I'll move Davy to the Kiddle shelf to give him a fresh audience-
just don't tell them he has NO diddle at all!

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This is so funny Michelle and Colleen....how clever! You two are a riot !! I've been laughing off and on uncontrollably since you posted it Michelle and you added to it Colleen. I love this forum. Thanks for making me laugh till my sides hurt!


Hollie

Can I just use this forum to tell my Davy Jones story, yet again? I get such a kick out it.

As a little girl (say 5/6), I had recurrent dreams of Davy Jones, Greg Brady, Keith Partridge, and Bobby Sherman standing in a line yelling, “Colleen, Colleen pick me!” I believe they wanted me to pick them for my husband. I could never decide between Davy or Bobby.

I was an avid Brady Bunch fan, of course. And, while I wasn’t allowed to watch the Partridge Family (my mother thought it was despicable that Shirley had no husband), I used to sneak peeks. The Monkees was my afternoon favorite. I donned my go-go boots and danced to their songs, an idea I got from the girls who danced on The Banana Splits. I just knew if I ever got to meet Davy Jones in person, he would fall in love with me.

About 15 years ago, I worked as a writer for a Philadelphia newspaper. I was sent on an assignment to Central Pennsylvania to interview Davy himself! My assignment was to find out how he made it in the entertainment industry.

I arrived at his horse farm to find him watching a Western movie in his living room. I was a little disappointed to discover that he was shorter than I and that he was no longer boyish. But when he opened his mouth to talk, that English accent caused me to swoon. And when he relayed with enthusiastic fervor his love of horses, I was melted entirely.

I was completely professional during the interview. But all sorts of unprofessional thoughts were swarming through my head. “What would it be like to be in bed with him saying sweet nothings in my ear… in that English accent? “What would the children Davy and I would have together look like?” “Could I ever develop an interest in horses?” Then I started to get the feeling Davy was having unprofessional feelings toward me as well.

When, by evening, the interview was completed, a big storm kicked up. Davy stated, “Simply aaaawful weather, we’re having. Won’t you stay the night?” (Think of this said in an English accent, and tell me you would have resisted?) I declined. I wondered, was it simply concern for my driving in the weather, or was it amoroso that caused Davy’s invitation? I prefer to think it was the latter. While I never answered the burning "diddle riddle," I drove home triumphant in the knowledge that, yes, I was correct at age five, if Davy Jones ever met me, he would fall in love!!!!

I know you British girls over there are fuming. “Not our Davy! Nobody shags our Davy, but us!”

Anyway, as I left, he kissed me on the cheek. Of course, I recalled the Brady Bunch episode where Marsha proclaimed, “I’ll never wash this cheek again!” For me, good hygiene trumps sentimentality every time.

If you liked that story, remind me to tell you about the time I dissed Danny Bonaduce. (True story too.) Ah, those were the days. The only men interested in me these days are my husband (he better say he’s interested) and the mailman. And the only reason the mailman is interested in me is because he THINKS I’m interested in him. He has no idea that the only reason I wait near the mailbox is because I’m expecting a Dawn doll package.

"Day dream believer, oh, what can it mean....

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What a great story, Colleen! Thanks for sharing!

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Save the Dawns!

Who's That Doll?