“I don’t want to spend my life not having good food going into my pie hole. That hole was made for pies.” Paula Deen
Category: Funny
Alright Alright Alright
I knew Matthew McConaughey had attended the University of Texas, but I didn’t realize he was on the 1971 Debate Team.
(Just in case you didn’t catch Daze and Confused…)
Now That’s Progressive
Before the current era (in which people wear pajama bottoms to Wal-Mart), folks dressed up for work. They took some time. They put in some effort. And if you saw a man in a derby and a double-breasted suit, you knew he was somebody, earning money for a new pair of wing-tips.
Here’s an interior shot.
My favorite part of this one is the view outside the window; the man crossing the street, the jalopy idling at the crosswalk. When’s the last time you saw curtains in an office? Where are the monitors? Is that faux marble trim on the counter? And an ashtray for smoking inside the office?
How refreshing to see the calming images of The Grand Canyon and lakeside fishing, without those ridiculous motivational taglines beneath them. But why aren’t the pictures framed? Look at those employees: no emails to check, no online bill pay, no texts, no sexts for dang sure. Just envelopes and stamps, back when a stamp was THREE CENTS. And just a bit of trivia for you here: stamps cost three cents from 1933-1958. Yes, for TWENTY-FIVE years, stamps stayed the same price. Can you imagine that? By comparison, stamps were 44 cents in 2011, then 45 in 2012, then 46 in 2013. That’s the game we play these days. You can barely catch your breath before the rules change. And that applies to everything. You think WordPress will exist in 2025? Don’t count on it.
Plaid On Plaid Not Always Bad
Lack of sleep is doing a number on me, so I have no clever comments about this picture from Galveston 1967. I just wanted to share. From the Wurlitzer jukebox to the formica, what a great glimpse into history. But do those ladies even look 21?
Buckles Of Swash
In a recent conversation with fellow blogger, Benson, we discussed actor Errol Flynn, who often played daring and dauntless characters, ripe with resourcefulness, chivalry, and swordfighting skills. He is remembered as the consummate swashbuckler. A biography of Flynn is even titled Portrait of a Swashbuckler.
Not to be outdone, the biography series of Douglas Fairbanks, The Great Swashbuckler, features scenes of him in iconic swashbuckling roles such as The Three Musketeers. Watch him get his swashbuckle on.
I fear the term is going by the wayside, and this has to stop. Per wikipedia, the word swashbuckler generally describes a protagonist who is heroic and idealistic to the bone and who rescues damsels in distress. His opponent is typically characterized as the dastardly villain.
I have never gone in for romance novels, was never tempted by colorful covers of longhaired Fabios and heaving bosoms beneath torn bodices. But it’s not hard to understand why a woman would enjoy fantasizing about an honorable, courageous hero, eager to defeat evil as well as capture her body heart.
I did, however, see The Adventures of Robin Hood and The Princess Bride, the latter in my formative years, which left a generation of adolescent girls seeking their own Farm Boy-turned-dueling Dread Pirate Roberts, who would say, “As you wish” to their every desire. What lady wouldn’t want that?
One need not read to deeply into it to determine the suggestiveness of a hero who is good with his sword. And I do believe Robin Hood is quoted as saying, “Rise and rise again.”
So are there any modern day swashbucklers? Captain Jack Sparrow in the recent Pirates of the Carribbean franchise with his pirate swaggah, could pass for a swashbuckler. One might even argue that Indiana Jones played a cocky swashbuckler, engaging in daring and romantic adventures, although he lacked the ostentatious bravado. And the mustache.
In any event, the swashbuckling archetype, driven nearly into extinction after its overexposure in movies and mid-century TV shows, is due for re-entry.
Give A Hoot (And Make It A Double)
No, of course there was no caption beneath this picture, explaining why two boys had owls in their laps. That would be too easy! And then I might actually get it–which I don’t. I checked, and the high school mascot was not an owl. This was presumably not a bird-watching club. I doubt it was an anti-pollution group back in ’49 (give a hoot; don’t pollute, per Woodsy Owl). I’m stumped. In any event, I was under the impression that you could not tame a raptor. However, these two look quite tame.
Double O Heaven
Okay, okay, let’s keep it clean here in blogland. It’s just Sean Connery, teasing Jill St. John with his ice cream on the set of Diamonds Are Forever in 1971. Nothing to get riled up about.
Swoon River
These ladies of of the 1946 Delta Chi Delta all agreed upon one thing: crooner Frank Sinatra was dreamy, even worthy of a swoon.
Swoon:
a : to faint
b : to become enraptured <swooning with joy>
But they weren’t the only ones. Ol’ Blue Eyes appealed to Bobby Soxers across the board.
Before Elvis and the Beatles, there was Frank Swoonatra, The Voice, Chairman of the Board.
The war was over, and the girls were eager to mob the Italian kid from Hoboken, New Jersey.
Most of us know about the Rat Pack, his ill-fated marriage to Ava Gardner, his suspect connections to the Mafia, his support of JFK, his daughter Nancy Sinatra, and his acting and singing careers. You may even know he’s one of only five people to have both a #1 single and an Oscar for acting, along with Cher, Barbra Streisand, Bing Crosby, and Jamie Foxx. Yeah, Jamie Foxx. But did you know:
- His version of “New York, New York” is played at Yankee Stadium after every Yankee home win? Liza Minelli’s version is played after every Yankee home loss.
- He was the original choice to play Dirty Harry?
- When Bela Lugosi died virtually penniless, Sinatra paid for his funeral?
According to www.imdb.com, “Sinatra weighed over 13 pounds at birth, and he had to be delivered by forceps. As a result, one of his ears was nearly severed. Showing no signs of life, he was held by his grandmother under cold, running water. He began to breathe, and cry. His mother – a practical nurse – and his father – a tavern operator – had been hoping for a girl, and had already chosen the name Frances. So they gave him the masculine form of the name: Francis.”
Here he is performing vocal warm-ups with Jackie Gleason.
And just clowning around on the set of Guys and Dolls.
And finally laid to rest.
It’s Magically Delish
In an effort to distract myself from current health issues (apparently 40 is the new 110), I picked up a 50 cent copy of the April 2012 Country Living and start flipping through the pages of flea market finds, cedar gazebos, and vine-ripened tomatoes, in reds and green pretty enough to frame. I think about how great it would be to slice those babies up and shove them between bacon and lettuce.
I skip past Easter eggs covered with temporary tattoos of larks and butterflies. I pass a page on how to prettify your potting shed. I lament that I have no potting shed. And then I come to this. 
Are you kidding me? I like dogs, people, but are you freaking kidding me? This is nicer than my freshman college dorm wall-pull-out bed. This is nicer than my junior year’s papasan, which by the way, Pier 1 still sells. 
Because who doesn’t love the marriage of a satellite dish balanced on a wicker frame? BTW, do they sell pagers to go with them? And bottles of Clearly Canadian? And cassettes from Toad the Wet Sprocket?
If your dog is a CEO of a Fortune 500 company, then, yes, he needs a $70 monogrammed canvas bed or a $208 linen sleeper. Heck, why not get him a Select Comfort bed while you’re at it? To think of all those childhood Christmases I spent sleeping on a shag-carpeted floor with a sheet and a blanket at my grandparents’ house, and I could have had a doggie duvet? Psh!
Look, before my son was born, I thought my dog had hung the moon. I brushed his teeth, I took him jogging, I trimmed his nails, he slept inside my home. Now my two dogs stay in the backyard, free to run and irritate one another, lucky to get a daily pat on the head from me, along with a heartworm pill every month. That’s reality. I roll my eyes and scan the adjacent page. Apparently, this is the dog-themed section: 
Real meat? No corn, wheat, or soy? Are dogs gluten-intolerant now? My childhood dog ate his own poo. I can say with certainty that he’d be down with corn and soy. If your lifespan only averages a decade, I say live it up.
Now, I know two years have passed since this product came out, and folks are free to do as they wish with their disposable income. But viewing it, in combination with the plush dog beds, made me think how delighted a homeless person would be to enjoy either. Or someone in a Third World country, sleeping in a dirt hut, drinking contaminated water, feasting on seeds. I bet they’d love a plastic tub of Chicken Paw Pie (with real chicken paws!). 
The folks at http://www.dogfoodadvisor.com say the Hearty Beef Stew contains beef broth, beef, dried egg product, chicken, pea protein, potatoes, carrots, and peas, as well as many vitamin supplements. If it looks and sounds better than McDonald’s, it probably is.
So what’s in a Big Mac? Two all-beef patties? All-beef? Isn’t that the meat that lives forever? I’m sure it’s great, now that the pink slime has been removed. Remember this picture from last April’s big news story?
That burger was from 1999. Yes, before the Twin Towers fell. Before any of today’s high school freshmen were BORN, that meat existed. Ew.
And let’s not forget the bun, made of bleached white flour, with a dash of ammonium sulfate, ammonium chloride, and a whole lotta other junk I can’t pronounce. Plus four sesame seeds on top. Pair that with a square of rubbery processed American cheese and the Special Sauce (soybean oil, pickle relish, distilled vinegar, water, egg yolks, high fructose corn syrup, onion powder, mustard seed, salt, spices, propylene glycol alginate, sodium benzoate, mustard bran, sugar, garlic powder, vegetable protein, caramel color, extractives of paprika, soy lecithin, turmeric, calcium disodium EDTA), and you’re in business!
It’s enough to make you resort to a box of Triscuits!
The bonus is–your dog will eat Triscuits, too. But only the flavored kinds. Dogs are picky like that.
Hold Me Now
I found this at an antique store in a nearby town a few days ago. No information on the back. Looks like late 20s, early 30s by the bobbed hair. My best guess is the man in the middle is the grandfather of Mr. Paul Reubens.
See? Pee Wee Herman likes holding puppies, too.
Sory, I meant to say Mr. Paul Rubenfeld.
You know I always have to bring it back to yearbooks.
The Best Part Of Waking Up
The best part of waking up is not Folger’s in your cup; it’s not being dead. I average about four hours of sleep per night, so I am never fully-rested, fully-cognizant, or fully-functioning. It is one of many thorns in my side. But I keep waking up each morning, before the sun, before the rooster crows, still breathing and being alive.
In the time it’s taken you to read this, about 100 people have died. Yep, approximately 6000 per hour.
So consider yourself lucky! If you’re still here, you’ve still got a mission to accomplish. Maybe it’s tackling that in-box. Maybe it’s chores. Maybe it’s fighting an illness. Maybe it’s a kind word to build someone up today, or just putting one foot in front of the other. But you’re not still sitting here, converting oxygen into carbon dioxide, for nothing. My guess is you’ll make it to the next minute as well. Hey, that’s better than the 200 people who died since you clicked on this post. Cheers to life, buddy! Get another cup of coffee (free trade, fair trade, or whatever) and enjoy the morning.
No Me Gustan Flannel-Clad Gringos
I Don't Get It 