Put a fork in me. I’m done. No seriously. I’m totally cooked in inside, or roasted, or toasted, or melty gooey. Forget the fork; get a pitchfork.
Naive me first thought that the doll might be this kind of Poll Dancer:
Even if it’s culturally insensitive (but it’s okay to say because I am one), this would have been an acceptable Pole Dancer toy:
I mean, with that doll existing, what’s the worst that could happen?