This Oldsmobile isn’t a taxi, but it sho nuff is taxi cab yellow. Look how sleek! How rich people on horses wave to rich people in cars! How swag that dog is! No seatbelts!
Why, even simple Delores can operate heavy machinery because there’s no confusing clutch. All she has to do is simply coordinate her headband, jacket, and skirt, don some white gloves, curl her hair, and slip into the bench seat to drive to Vegas and bet on the ponies like the old man used to do. Gas it, Delores!
Clearly none of these Ozzie Nelsons has a gluten allergy. That’s one thing we can all appreciate about the Cold War era. You’ll shove it in your face, and you’ll like it. And evidently Ricky did, since he ate a hundred. Harriet, ladylike, made ’em thin and dainty. And David’s were huge to help fuel his many chores.
Ah, now there’s the real Ozzie, flipping flapjacks. I don’t know about you, but I like both The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet AND the pancakes. In fact, I named my dog Jemima. It has a better ring to it than Mrs. Butterworth.
Oh, Libby. I don’t know who or where you are, but I know you are misleading America. I remember a jingle about “Libby, Libby, Libby on the label, label, label” and now I imagine your name was said thrice as folks were shaking their heads at atrocities such as this. I think we can all agree that a mom who throws a can of corn on deviled eggs “in hot, undiluted cream of mushroom soup” (as indicated below) is dialing it in. And peas with salmon chunks? I am nigh on the verge of regurgitation, Libby.
Introduced in the fall of 1963, the swanky Chevelle had a brief shining moment in the sun until its demise in 1977. From the death of JFK to the death of Elvis, this muscle car made a statement. Just look at that hood. You and four of your friends could stargaze on that width. Why, you could host a family picnic on it!
I think I prefer this earlier model. What do you think?
Did you just try to smell your own elbow?
These fake Latuda smiles are not exactly winning endorsements for the enticingly-named Congoleum product. They look more like they’re remembering an old flame, the one that got away. Who can say? But we CAN safely assume this is a tee-totaling home. A couple whiskeys and this tile does not a good pair make. Every day is a hallucination in Polly’s kitchen! Actually, Prohibition was in effect, so the liquor was probably in the cellar. Americans were sober and their pockets were empty.
Two years later, old floors still posed problems. Fortunately, Muriel found a way to fix it.
Before islands existed, folks tossed a table in the kitchen and called it eat-in dining. I like how the couples are having separate conversations three feet apart. You think Edward and Henry even NOTICED that Muriel changed the tile? Fat chance. Drinking is legal now, and it is SO ON. Edward and Henry have hooch on the brain and hooch only. Meanwhile, Muriel is sitting on the table, assessing her new flooring. I think she’s having second thoughts, now that she sees how it clashes with Nora’s orange striped dress. In fact, I think Muriel is playing the quicksand game and avoiding contact entirely. And why is she dressed for a funeral?
At least her little green squares were preferable to this muddy brown zigzag hot mess. I imagine it disguised dirt well but I’m getting a migraine just looking at it. And such a shame with an otherwise upbeat kitchen!
Did your grandparents have tile like this? Did you make up games to walk on it?
I Don't Get It 