At least that’s what it looks like she’s saying. The one that’s not holding the plunger, wearing a satin evening gown, smiling at the casually-dressed lady opening the car door. ‘Cause that makes sense.
Shut The Front Door
Category: Funny
Honey, We Can’t Live In Hotels Forever
Oh, the First World Problems of 1946! Howard wants to go house-hunting, but Mary is backed up. He offers to make her a glass of Sal Hepatica, which to me sounds like a mixture of Sal Mineo and hepatitis. Don’t do it, Mary!
You remember what happens to Sal Mineo, Mary? He gets stabbed to death in an alley by a pizza delivery man 30 years from now. Is that how you want to go out, Mary?
Fortunately, the sparkling, saline laxative works for Mary, and she jumps from el excusado to Howard’s arms in no time flat. Dream home, here we come!
So Many Ozzie Nelsons
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.
They Will ABSOLUTELY Miss The Meat: Libby’s Easy-Don’t Friday Sludgefest
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.
Draw Your Own Conclusions
Bracing Yourself Against The Wind And Shame
You Sure Are Heavy, Mary
Grocer Nan Won’t Step Foot In Polly’s Trippy Kitchen
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?
Reasons For Migraines
These ladies of Riomaggiore chill by the train tracks, waiting for the train to take them to La Spezia to peddle their crates of table grapes (for eating, not winemaking).
I don’t carry anything on my head but a hat or sunglasses, and neither requires balance.
Not so for bananas. What if you have to sneeze? Or someone yells your name? Or you have a sudden urge to dab?
That’s just bananas. But not nearly as bananas as THIS.
I don’t get it.
Just Keep Rowing, Just Keep Rowing
When Your Dryer Has A Faulty Belt And It Sounds Like It’s Functioning Normally, But The Drum Of Wet Clothes Won’t Spin So Plan B
A serviceman gazes up at mostly-white skivvies drying in the warm Genoan sun as he steadily climbs upward in the Truogoli di Santa Brigida. Due to a shortage of space, Genoan buildings grow upward.
Incidentally, the quiet nook of Truogoli di Santa Brigida receives a 4.5 out of 5 stars on TripAdvisor.
One reviewer said, “ジェノバ・プリンチペ駅から王宮へ向かって道を下る途中、王宮手前の右手に路地へ入っていく場所がある。 この様に口コミサイ…” which means “much fun party!” No, I don’t know what that says.
Another review read, “Reliable local simple and tasty cuisine, in a beautiful and typical square of the historic center of Genoa, just behind the Royal Palace of Via Balbi. Among the first great typical ravioli Genoese touch and fresh pasta, good also with meat, often cooked according to traditional recipes from Liguria (rabbit, roast), plus a few fast and light dish like octopus with vegetables. Discrete bottled wines, excellent quality/price ratio.”
Makes one wonder if the laundry drying in the Italian sun would smell “linen fresh” or ripe with hints of game and basil…
Where My Middle-Aged Drinkers At?
Oh, there they are–in full force, ready for game day, celebrating the ol’ alma mater.
In 1979, the legal drinking age in Texas was 18, having been lowered from 21 in 1973 due to anti-war protesters, which meant every single student at the University of Texas could freely partake of ale. And some started honing their hoarding tendencies early. “Two. Cans. For Ev. Ery. Girrrrrrl…”
The blonde in the sheepskin coat has Mackenzie Phillips’s mouth. I’m just saying.
Did you ever watch her on One Day At A Time? She was the bad daughter of the divorced mom, and Valerie Bertinelli was the good one. Valerie looks AMAZING now as the judge on Food Network’s Kid’s Baking Championship. She’s so kind and encouraging. I want to hang out with her. What are we talking about again?
Aha! Drinking in 1979! And what do you suppose happened here?
Methinks a visored lady (named Virginia?) suddenly appeared on the back of his motorcycle, offering a koozie-chilled beer to the driver. Yes, Virginia, he’s flummoxed.
It’s probably for the best that it’s age 21 now. By the way, 21 is the highest minimum drinking age that exists. Here’s the MDA worldwide.
I didn’t realize 16 countries banned drinking altogether: Afghanistan, Bahrain, Bangladesh, Brunei Darussalam, Iran, Kuwait, Libya, Maldives, Mauritania, Pakistan, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Sudan, United Arab Emirates, and Yemen. I had no idea! Have you ever visited a country with no drinking age (like Bolivia or China) or a complete restriction?
I Don't Get It 