Starfish Claw Photobombs Couple On Thrilling First Date
Category: Photography
We’re Goin’ Hoppin’
Dapper Dans
Fast Times At Martin High 1956
One can only wonder what sorts of shenanigans ensued at the water fountain between a leather jacketed victim, a topless accomplice, and one fellow suffering from a damaged pinky.
These fellows seem pretty psyched to cast their votes for class president.
“Don’t forget to calculate the area of the trapezoids and rhombi, Ese.”
Sometimes you just want to strangle your typing teacher because she’s a controlling bruja.
Been there, my friend.
Everybody’s Free To Wear Sunscreen
I apologize if it is still wintry in your neck of the woods. Here it’s been in the 80s. Birds are chirping incessantly, lawns are demanding weekly mowings, the air has the bitter stench of weed-killer in it, the neighborhood pool opens manana, and swarms of bees root around in our holly bush, two paces from our front door. I HATE bees. And wasps. Our Martha Stewart six chair patio set is ready for guests. All we need is a recliner, like these ladies seem to be enjoying.
Considering it was 1932, smack dab in the middle of The Depression, they seem to be fairing pretty well. Methinks Ms. Ira F. Warner from Westhampton, Long Island looks rather cheeky.
Slide Rule Club Now Medicare-Eligible
“Your Call Is Very Important To Us”
Mary Alice has been on hold for 37 minutes with her P.O.C. health insurance carrier, and has found herself entertaining unkind thoughts of shoving Joyce and Joanne’s heads through the spindly wrought iron bars.
Mushroom Cloud Vampire & French Stewart
This bespectacled fellow is giving me a French Stewart (from Third Rock From The Sun) vibe.
The year 1951 was a special time for hair. Behold.
What in the name of Lyle Lovett? Oh, let’s not be hasty in our judgment; perhaps it was covering a right-sided tumor.
This next series takes us from disdain to giddy jubilation in just four steps.
Not everyone can have fantastic hair like Snazzle Dazzle here.
Right, Leslie?
Pretty sure he turned out to be a psychopath.
Because Their Names Are Awesome
The Face That Stirs No Emotion
I used to be a sappy, squeezy, snuggly dog person, but after the unspeakable incident of ’03, I have made my heart dead inside. To an extent. So even the cuteness of Tonto fails to arouse a wellspring of joy.
I feel like Jemima looks. Oh, the ennui.
Barely tolerating the wretched burden of this life thrown upon her. She used to be a contender, dining on duck treats in a pre-Hurricane Katrina Big Easy, but then she got craigslisted by the lumberjack-bearded friend of her dead owner and wound up in our back yard, hardly suffering Tontos gladly.
So she chases him. Tries to chase the stupid out of him. To no avail.
Round and round they go, her ten-year-old limbs chasing his younger, jauntier, more bassetty frame. 
And still she is bored. And still he is stupid.
Thursday Trash Day: Level Epic
We reorganized our guest bedroom over the last few days, tweaking the western theme and moving furniture, painting touch-ups, and hanging frames. In the process, an old (read 1980s) dresser, about as tall as I am, was kicked to the curb for today’s trash men to carry away to a landfill far away from subdivisions, where people like me don’t have to give it another thought. Praise da Lort, as Madea would say.
Of course, we realized the dresser would be long gone by the time the trashmen made their mid-morning rounds; the scavengers come at sunrise to whisk away one man’s trash and make it their treasure. This is a given. Always has been, always will be. These are the same people who arrive for 10am garage sales at 7am, hepped up on Lort-knows-what and eager to haul off half your stash. Is it the same where you live?
We Wear Short Shorts
That’s a tight formation, boys.
Other than the silkiness of the shorts, the track and field outfits for these Dallas high school fellas in 1967 didn’t vary much from those in 1936 at the University of Kansas.
Less fabric = more ease of movement. And what a fine-looking trophy.
Still, a little more length in the shorts might be preferable. I don’t think he’s going to clear this one, y’all.
I Don't Get It 