Category: 1950s

Alternate Ways To Pledge Allegiance

Duffle046You’re supposed to put your right hand OVER your heart, not cop a feel of your breast. At least that was how we were taught. I think she just got to second base with herself. Or maybe she’s doing a routine exam for lumps. Save it for the bus ride, missy.

But I like her foot placement; she’s selling it. And check out the doll on the far left. She can’t quite summon up the words. And to the republic, for which it stands… Honestly, I don’t know why we ever phased out long plaid dresses with loafers and bobby socks. It’s a classic, modest look. The anti-Miley.

Apparently, Miles doesn’t know the correct way to pledge, either.

http://www.highsnobiety.com/
http://www.highsnobiety.com/

Deadringers

Corpus Christi High School’s class of 1950 has some real gems to share with you today.

That HAS to be Andy Samberg’s granddad. No two ways around it.

This greaser reminded me of the bad guy in Grease, Crater Face.

And this cutie patootie reminded me of Maxwell Caulfield’s character in Grease II. Do you see it, too?

In most cultures, symmetry is beauty. But these two gentleman prove that your hair can be an asymmetrical entity, and you can still be smooth. It’s like chunks are missing from their heads.

Have you ever seen an old man’s toupee caught in the wind? This is like that except it’s swirly like tidal waves. But also like frosting on a cupcake. I could get lost in it. Look at him, all cocky. How YOU doin’?

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I just feel like you need to see this. Tweezing is in order.

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Ahem.

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What happens when Walt Disney mates with Salvador Dali?

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This guy. I like him already.

Duffle023And check this out! The Kewpie doll is all grown up.

Eye of the Beholder

I like how this yearbook just cuts to the chase: Pretty Girls. So there. It’s not open for discussion. And Sugie Smulcher signed her name for emphasis. Say that aloud. Sugie Smulcher. Rolls right off the tongue.

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Other yearbooks try to be creative with their beauty queen section, like this classy illustration preceding the portraits.

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Some editors refer to them as queens.

1952 Coyote
1952 Coyote

Others refer to them as “sweethearts.”

1957 Hornet
1957 Hornet

I doubt this girl’s destiny included being a farmer’s wife, but she took the title of FFA (Future Farmers of America) sweetheart.  If she’s not a vision in lace, I don’t know what is.

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“Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute.”–Albert Einstein

Now that’s science!

Poetry In Motion

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Oh, my goodness. This is too much for a Monday. It’s like West Side Story meets yoga meets Lionel Richie’s ballerina girl meets Mr. Roboto.

I do not like her rigid pose
I do not like her see-through clothes
I do not like her pointed feet
I really think that girl should eat
May I suggest some lean red meat?
With green eggs, it is quite a treat

Would you like them in Oklahoma?
No, I prefer them in a coma

I do not like their warrior stance
I do not like their modern dance
I do not want to have to watch
I think we should Febreze her crotch

I do not like that high slit skirt
I do not like boys’ groins that hurt
I do not like that turtleneck
I do not like it for a sec

I do not like them, Sam-I-am
I’d rather eat a can of Spam
And pour it in a cereal bowl
That precooked gelatinous pork bumhole

I do not like them here or there
I do not like them anywhere

Brown Paper Packages Tied Up With String

shower

Aging is no picnic, unless your picnic has ants, and it’s raining. Then it is indeed a picnic. My birthday is coming up this month, and while I usually have no desire for presents or acknowledgements of the slow decline into degeneration, this year I have seen some things to add to my wishlist.

First, I want this sweater. I knew of poodle skirts, but not poodle sweaters! Of course, it would look a lot better if I were flatchested, but who cares if its little paws tuck underneath my bosom?

LHS53035Second, I want this shirt.

Rancho53-Physics TheoryWell, now that I think about it, it would look too busy on me. I guess what I really want is to SEE someone wearing that shirt in person, so my jaw can drop in awesome wonder as I marvel at it.

Also, I want a good great blow-out. No, it’s not the female counterpart to what fellas want. It requires a blowdryer. Yeah, I’ve had decent ones, but not Tony-the-Tiger GUH-REAT ones. Well, I did that one time in Texarkana nearly 20 years ago (I still remember the car honks I got while pumping gas afterward. I can hear Bruce Springsteen singing “Glory Days” as I type…) Anyway, I want to look beautiful, kind of like this:

chewieI want everyone I encounter on that day to tell me not only does my blow-out look gorgeous, but that I could pass for being in my 30s as in days of yore. Also, they will complain that they had to go hunting for their college thesaurus last night in order to find enough kind words to say about me. I will be both fetching and prepossessing all day long.

awesomeI will also receive various dark chocolate assortments, with nougats and cremes and nuts, but they will have no calories and no chemicals. And no birthday cards! Cards are a waste of $3. Just give me a $1 dollar bill and write “happy birthday” in the corner. Good enough. And nothing with glitter! Glitter is for hookers and showgirls and burlesque dancers and people who still wear tube tops. Ick.

Then we will all gather ’round and make a toast to another year of not being dead. Bartender, 7-Up all around! You know what Granny says:

declarations012But most of all, I want to never forget how blessed I am–with family, friends, a house with room to breathe, and all my WordPress blogger buddies!

Cheers!

pig