These two barelegged cowgirls atop a cream-colored BAR-B-Q convertible are too too much! Howdy, y’all!
This lady is clearly more refined in her demeanor.
If Joan Tompkins’ smug recline doesn’t do it for you, then maybe a marching band will. 76 trombones led the big parade…
Any of you ladies ever twirled a baton? I hear fingers have muscle memory, just in case you’re planning any summertime family reunions that require talent contests. You know, like in that movie Dan In Real Life, where Steve Carell sang “Let My Love Open The Door.” Oh, that was so sweeeeet…
Oh, and one more thing. After all the floats pass by, they’re serving barbeque!
I don’t need to tell you from which decade this new yearbook hails, do I, peeps? Kiss could shout it, shout it out loud. Oh, how this new yearbook score is laden with delicious 80s-ness! No wiggin’ out over wars to protest or lame women’s rights. Just the sweet self-indulgence of excess. I truly hope that these two hotties (Joel and Tim) are alive and have access to WordPress, because who would not want to revisit his starry-eyed Captain-sans-Tenille, Magnum P.I.-Hawaiian-shirt look? Not I.
One thing I lack on my po’ person’s WordPress theme is the ability to change font (or the skill to access it). But if I had a genie and three wishes, one would be to sleep seven magical hours without changing positions at twelve minute intervals and/or pee out water I drank way back at 8pm, and then the second might be to imbibe endless ice-cold bubbly Cokes (with the perfect syrup to CO2 ratio) without harm to my stomach lining or causing inflammation, but surely the third one would be to have a blog with this sweet-a$$ font, which I would call (of course): Jack’s Barber Shop. I hate that I can’t type that in the actual JBS font. Curses!
Most of us didn’t give much thought to font when we were young, but nowadays, it can change everything. Perhaps you’ve witnessed the hate crimes against poor Comic Sans?
And this lesser viewed one…
Fortunately, a new font was created.
Yeah, that’s pretty swank, and most everyone loves lemon (or a glass of limoncello). But the reality is that lemonade stands are not lucrative. No one knows his neighbor these days. That nasty diluted dixie cup of Country Time might be poisoned like Jonestown Kool-Aid. So thanks, but no, thanks.
Instead, you’re all invited to my tavern (it’s two blocks down, just past the Walgreen’s), and tonight we’ll serve $3 pints of Shiner Bock and mojitos until we run out. Or whatever it is your state enjoys…
If you live in Canada, chances are high that you’re enjoying Molson Canadian (ahem? freedom of choice? diversity?). We’ll keep some cold for you.
And if PERHAPS you live on Fantasy Island where all the words have K’s in them, you may find yourself on this craft beer snob map–although it is impossible to read because you are, after all, made up of teensy tiny islands.
The Wurlitzer jukebox still offers four plays for a buck, and if you are Fonzie and know the sweet spot, you can get your selections gratis. We have a Happy Hour special on raspberry chipotle buffalo wings (with ranch, blue cheese, carrots, AND celery), cooked by my husband, and my famous crispy pepper bacon brownies. The early bird gets the worm. And when you have to use the restroom, it’s to the left, down past the pinball machines and Mrs. Pac-Man. Use the door for your gender (Jack or Jill), both written in Jack’s Barber Shop font. See you tonight!
I saw this picture in a 1940 yearbook and thought, “That looks a lot like Ol’ Blue Eyes, except for those jacked-up teeth.” Turns out it was Sinatra, and the best (teeth) were yet to come. The Chairman of the Board was not the big draw at the above 1940 Freshman Frolic; that honor went to Tommy Dorsey. Back in 1940, 25-year-old Frank was merely a “boy singer” in Dorsey’s band, earning sufficient funds to fix his teeth.
In fact, another six years would pass before Sinatra released his first studio album,The Voice of Frank Sinatra. He was lucky to get a mention in this partial review. Don’t worry, Roscoe. He can’t put a hit out on you for saying this, although that does sound like his style. Confrontation he did not shy away from. And it was that spirit that sent him back for another round of dental work years later.
As Paul Anka recalls, a drunk Sinatra, upset that Sands Casino owner Howard Hughes had declined his credit, jumped up on a blackjack table and pitched a fit. When manager Carl Cohen tried to calm him down, Sinatra called him a “fat Jew bas****” and turned over a table. What could Cohen do? Turn the other cheek? Or punch him in the face and send Frank’s teeth flying across the room? He chose the latter.
“You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you”.–Walt Disney