My Barbie’s used to cat fight to get a piece of their very own G.I. Joe action! What self assured, blond bombshell would even dream of giving a second glance to the pretty boy next door, sleeves of his Lacoste sweater tied neatly in front of his chest, equipped with tennis racquet tucked gently into his perfectly manicured hand? Not in my Barbie feigning days! My girls liked big guns. They’d sell their souls in an instant to get G.I. Hottie into the powder pink convertible, then back to the three story townhouse (with elevator) for an evening of dress up fun. Going up?