I Don't Get It

Teepees and Trailer Homes

I took my state’s history courses when I was in elementary school, but now that I’m a parent, I have to learn the new history (based on which group is currently displeased with its depiction, or what we’d like to collectively erase, or what the editor accidentally cut and forgot to repaste). You know, kind of like when you’re dating someone, and you choose which past mistakes to reveal (Chinese tattoo, Minor In Possession, difficult break-up) and which to gloss over (lost weekends in Cancun, jail cells, crab infestations). It’s like that.

So I’m studying the new Texas history, looking at this picture, under the header, “Tipis: Early Mobile Homes.” Which makes me chuckle. First, “tipis” on my lips sounds like “tipp-iss.” I would have preferred “teepees,” even if that reminds me of toilet paper. Oh, there’s the school bell! Enjoy this Monday morning Spring Break history lesson:

When the group was ready to move on, they took apart their tipis to bring with them. The tipi’s wooden poles and buffalo hide could be made into a sort of “moving van” called a travois. The travelers packed all their belongings on the travois, a type of sled pulled by dogs and later by horses.

Really? Travois, from the French word travail? Was there a French influence in the Native American culture?

Now nobody thinks of tipis/teepees when one mentions mobile homes. Most of us picture the stereotypical manufactured home (broken Camaro up on blocks, Christmas lights strung across the porch, where the mildewy couch has caved in, and little spring coils are poking out, like grey hairs on an aging scalp). If you think that’s a stretch, I can point to a dozen just like that within a mile of my laptop.

Others will picture an R.V. (recreational vehicle), which technically IS a mobile home. Airstream trailers possess a kitschy coolness in modern times; Miranda Lambert sang about her desire to live in one with homemade curtains. And as taco truck culture grows, we see more and more Airstreams dealing affordableish foods, including Austin’s own “hey cupcake,” which could REALLY USE A COMMA in its name. SERIOUSLY, IN A TOWN WITH HALF A MILLION ENGLISH MAJORS, YOU’D THINK SOMEONE MAY HAVE CLUED YOU IN ON THAT ONE. It’s like the Gin Blossoms and “Hey Jealousy” all over again…

Despite the insipid and omnipresent SWOOSHES covering recreational vehicles, their insides can be pretty keen. We’ve seen the inside of a concert tour bus; we know how stars are living large on the road (except, of course, for Buddy Holly’s Winter Dance Party tour bus; its heater broke down in sub-freezing weather, which caused his drummer to get frostbite, for which he was hospitalized, which spared him from the chance to ride in American Pie, which crashed on the Day the Music Died, and two days later, the drummer had to rejoin the tour, grieving and frostbitten.) But other than THAT, folks can really pimp their rides in style, even make them downright classy.

Classy, however, is not a term associated with manufactured homes.

I have friends and family who live in site-built homes (that’s the term we had to use at the appraisal district), and a couple in manufactured homes. I have been in manufactured homes that were much nicer than some site-built homes. But like that poster says, stereotypes are based on reality. So here’s the question: were trailers EVER COOL? I mean, this 1950s model looks pretty swank. No stained wifebeaters on Dad, no chain link fence, no deranged “rabified” Pit Bulls straining to kill.

And this isn’t too trashy, although I am sensing some underage recreation behind that snack bar, involving Swisher Sweets and Boone’s Strawberry Hill.

So how did THAT become THIS?

Yeah, that looks like it’s pretty well-fortified against any sudden tornado, on the off-chance that one might come veering toward it…

Good or bad, train wrecks sell: see Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. And the network that brought us that gem just debuted Welcome To Myrtle Manor, a reality series about a South Carolina trailer park. Who knows? Maybe they’ll become cool again.

I’ve Got My Back Against The Record Machine

I can’t even begin to dissect the awesomeness of this picture. All the elements together blow my mind.

Time For A Breather? Time For A Reality Check.

I spy with my little eyes a a trim little number working in the flower garden, wearing a jaunty yellow scarf and prissy white gloves to protect his manicure, with a clear oral fixation, hand on hip, jutted out all sassily. Uh-oh. The issue is not Mom’s beer. The issue is Mom’s a beard.

I Don’t Always Drink Beer, But When I Do…

…it’s Dos Equis. Actually, that’s not true. I very rarely drink beer, and I can’t recall the last time I had a Dos Equis. But the fact that that tagline is in my head means Dos Equis did a hell of a job marketing their beer with their pitchman, The World’s Most Interesting Man–who, incidentally, reminds me of Ricardo Gonzalo Pedro Montalbán y Merino, the star of Fantasy Island, which came on after Love Boat. It always comes back to Love Boat for me. It’s my seven degrees of Kevin Bacon.

Women and wine go hand-in-hand. You’ve seen the ecards.

Grapes are healthy, right? Actually, these ecards seem kind of pathetic. The women are often alone. But beer is where it’s at for socializing. Check out this ad for beer in the Fifties:

"Friends from across the Lake" — “Friends from across the Lake”

It’s not wine, women, and song, but it’s beer, women, and song. The broads are dressed to the nines, spinning tunes and knitting, while casually-dressed men smoke pipes, throw back a pint, and wave to chums down at the pier, enjoying a twilight canoe ride. The soft glow of the lantern invites you in to the scene. I love it! And why wouldn’t I? It was painted by Haddon Sundblom, the man who brought us the genius of the Coca-Cola Santa Claus, the standard by which we measure all shopping mall Santas.

Another work of art is this watercolor by John Gannam, “Around the Swimming Pool,” used in an ad for the U.S. Brewers Foundation.

Keep in mind that this was 1948, so everyone was thin. And yes, everyone was fairskinned, so not every token ethnicity is represented, the way they are sprinkled in to department store ads in current acceptable proportion these days. Just get past that, you PC freaks. The focus here is on the technique. This is ART. You an keep your abstracts; I’ll take mine uplifting like this. A sunny day, a refreshing creek (clearly without water moccasins), stylish kerchiefs, Betty Grable legs, snacks at the ready… Who wouldn’t want this life? Even the most devout teetotaler is not immune to those Tang-tinted mugs o’ ale.

I imagine that creek runs down past the neighbor’s back yard, a few doors down, where the festivities continue.

Douglas Crockwell's "Birthday Party for Dad" — Douglas Crockwell’s “Birthday Party for Dad”

What a sweet back yard! Is that a waterfall in the background? The current looks pretty strong there in the foreground, but that’s not keeping Esther Williams from playfully ~~flirting~~ splashing her friend’s husband, the one hiding her first trimester pregnancy in the robe. Seriously, who wears a swim cap to a Frank Lloyd Wright back yard shindig? She must have just had her hair did. Or maybe it’s tinted pink, from an inept Beauty School drop-out. Either way, beer belongs. You better recognize.

Easy Breezy Caftan Fabulous!

This ad arrived in my mail today, in the stack with Pizza Hut and Ken’s Dressing coupons.

The model is pretty, but the throw rug in which she carved a neck hole is not. Here, you can see that the MSRP was $29.90 (oh, that’s ANOTHER thing I don’t get; why they can’t just list it as $30, like we’re going to dance a giddy jig for the dime saved!), but now it’s HALF PRICE! For only $14.95, you, too, can look like Mrs. Roper from Three’s Company.

Honestly, Stanley’s outfit is the nicest one in that pic. He could pass that one off today. The abdominal area of Crissy’s UPS jumpsuit is creating a curious diamond effect, like one of those God’s eyes we used to craft in summer camp. What you might not know is that Mrs. Roper’s caftan is constructed from the same material used to make Magic Eye 3-D pictures.

Caftans look like nightgowns. They’re hiding something, and not a delightful surprise. Something post-menopausal. Something in a hazy shade of winter.

This looks like the precursor to Snuggies; it’s enveloping the both of them.

So, anyway, I went online to the http://www.fourcorners.com website, and discovered that this lovely safari caftan, modeled by Amy Poehler, is marked down even FURTHER, to $3.95. Well, bust my buttons! For the price of an order of cheese sticks, I can score “an elegant, figure-flattering” piece of silk-like material. Four dollars isn’t even the tax you paid on your last dress.

One of the selling points beside this ad says “So versatile around the house and yard!” Really? Is that appropriate to wear to go check the mail? To walk Timmy to the bus stop for school? To do some hedge-trimming?

It also says, “Perfect for lounging or entertaining at home – even pretty enough for candlelight dinners!” I don’t know about you, but my entertaining does not involve caftans. Let’s invite all the neighbors to investigate what’s underneath this tent of a dress–lions, and tigers and bears. Oh, my–that’s not a bear!

And lest you think you can do better than four smackeroos, let me clue you in on something. This here “double-ruffle MuuMuu” costs a whopping $58.00. But Imelda Marcos is loaded, so she can afford it.

I know, I know, a MuuMuu is for a cow-cow, but this woman (not really Imelda) is (probably) not overweight. Granted, it might look better draping a window or serving as a bed skirt, but let’s not overlook the fact that the neckline is elasticized, for nights when she’s feeling sassy and wants to wear it off the shoulder. But please don’t do that, because either your bra straps will show (and we all know strapless bras are a joke), or you’ll be unsupported , and neither is acceptable. Not even in the land of luaus and lava.

“I Hate Reality, But It’s Still The Best Place To Get A Good Steak.”– Woody Allen

Vegans and vegetarians, this post is not for you. Get on your bike and pedal self-righteously to a co-op and buy yourself more hummus and tofu, kale and quinoa. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But this is for carnivores.

Ahem. I learned early on from The Smiths that meat was murder, but, then again,

And war is murder, and abortion is murder, and so on and so on. Now please make my steak medium rare.

Those of us of a certain age will remember this Saturday morning PSA, pleading with America’s then-non-obese children to not “drown our food.”

If you remember that, then you were probably wearing tapered jeans and shoulder pads when Sally (“Hot Lips” Houlihan) Kellerman exhorted us to come to Hidden Valley Ranch and slather copious amounts of the buttermilky goodness all over our baby carrots and celery sticks. It may be useful in getting your kids to EAT vegetables, but it’s a lousy strategy in TASTING them.

When it comes to steak, I can understand how some folks prefer grilled mushrooms on top, maybe some caramelized onions, even chimichurri on a flank steak. But for my money, a steak like this needs nothing more than the salt and pepper on the crust.

It is insulting to a chef to dine at his steakhouse and pour A1 and Worcestershire all over a fine cut of meat. Just say no to all of this!

Consider this ad for Hunt’s (Hunt’s, people! Not even Heinz, the real ketchup–pardon me, CATSUP) in 1952.

Either Dad doesn’t know how to grill a tasty T-bone, or that’s a perfectly good waste of beef. Ketchup on a steak is an irreverent, impious act against the inviolable laws of steak consumption. It just is. Frankly, ketchup serves its purpose best on potatoes. While we’re at it, can someone explain this to me? Is this corn beef hash and cole slaw?

And what on earth is this next one? Baked BEANS with ketchup? Is that meatloaf wedges as the accompaniment? Or are those pumpernickel slices? So confused. And where is the hand holding the bottles in all these images? Hunt’s is so magically buoyant.

Enough already! I need something that makes sense.

Ah, yes. There we are.

Starring In Our Own Late Late Show

I always liked this image from one of my Hollywood golden years picture books. An interesting snippet from their lives. But it also seemed sad, since Humphrey Bogart only lived a few more years.

Esophageal cancer ultimately claimed him, and he only weighed 80 pounds (36 kg) when he died on January 14, 1957. The things cancer can do to a body. That’s another thing I don’t get. I guess he was right when he said, “Things are never so bad they can’t be made worse.”

I suppose that’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, though.

“Look, Bogey! I see a pack of unfiltered Chesterfields that you haven’t smoked yet!”

And what happened to eight glasses of water a day?

Live and let live, I guess. We all have our vices and our downfall. His widow, Lauren Bacall once said, “You can’t start worrying about what’s going to happen. You get spastic enough worrying about what’s happening now.” Amen.

Schnozzola And The Elongated Appendage

I was Googling strabismus (don’t ask), which reminded me of proboscis, which reminded me (or–as my son says–remembered me) of proboscis monkeys, which are the bomb. If you haven’t seen them before, consider your life full now. If they seem familiar, they might bear a resemblance to a sepia photo of an ancestor from the Old Country.

I always want to pronounce it “probiscus,” but I think that’s because I grew up in Hippietown, where the city council mandated all hip restaurants serve hibiscus tea. I love me some hibiscus tea.

This fella looks like Cindy Lou Who, who was no more than two:

Now I’m not going to go all National Geographic on you and load you up with stats and preach how proBOScis monkeys are endangered, how they are the primate world’s most prolific swimmers, or how silly they can be when hitting the water with a belly flop SPLAT. Pinky swear.

I just want you to recognize their uniqueness. This guy has swagger.

At first, this looks like an ad for Reach toothbrushes or dental hygiene, but I think he’s just chewing a stick. All in a day’s work.

Now pretend I’m Oprah Winfrey, narrating the Discovery Channel’s “Life” series, giving you the 411 on all animals as if she created them herself, like she’s some Miss Know-It-All Omniscient Oprah, Queen of All That Is And Will Be. Sorry. Now here goes in my alto Winfrey voice: The males use their bulbous, pendulous noses to attract females. If that seems far-fetched, consider Lyle Lovett and Julia Roberts. (I still love you, Lyle.)

Or the most obvious comparison, Jimmy Durante. If you don’t know who Jimmy Durante is, do yourself a favor and Google him.

He’s actually not THAT scary. And he did manage to wed two wives, so the nose evidently was no deterrant.

This next shot makes me want to start a caption contest. Ever since Junior was born, it’s like I don’t even matter to you. Whatevs. I’m over it.

Well, I’m off to enjoy a tall glass of iced hibiscus tea now. Goodnight Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are!

The Liebster Blog Award

I have been officially blogging for two months now, and only wish I had started earlier. What an intelligent, creative group of bloggers we have in WordPress! And what an insane world we live in, where we can post our thoughts and share them across the globe in a matter of seconds.

Now for the good news! I was among the nominees chosen by crankycaregiver at http://crankycaregiver.wordpress.com for The Liebster Blog Award . It is given to up-and- coming bloggers who have less than 200 followers. I qualify! So, first and foremost, I give thanks to cranky in the words of the immortal Wayne Newton.

She is a grandma, so she should appreciate full-on grandma roses and butterflies. All we need now is a Thomas Kinkade painting.

Moving forward: “Liebster” is German for “favorite,” “dearest,” or “beloved.” This award encourages newbies, who can, in turn, welcome fellow newcomers by passing on this award. (You will not get penalized if you decide not to pass it on.)

Now, of course, there are rules to passing on the baton, so if you choose to accept this mission and pay it forward, here are the rules:

1. Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog.

2. Link back to the blogger who awarded you.

3. Copy & Paste the award to your blog (I have provided choices in many united colors of Benetton).

4. List 11 Random Facts about yourself.

5. Answer the questions asked by the blogger who nominated you.

6. Nominate 5 blogs that you enjoy to receive the award and who have less than 200 followers.

7. List 11 questions for your nominees.

8. Inform them of their nomination by leaving a comment on their blog.

Wow. I just had a birthday, but I think I’ll have another by the time I wrap this up.

Step 4 – 11 Random Facts About Kerbey:

I love Coke, even though it’s unhealthy.
I sing in my church’s band.
I can do the breathing part of “Personal Jesus.”
I enjoy it when music is playing in department stores because it makes me happy while I shop, so I cannot tolerate the cemetery ambience of Target.
A week in my life has not passed in which I have not consumed chips and salsa.
I don’t care for loud bass, especially in a car parked anywhere near my home.
My head is full of 80s song lyrics.
If you are waiting on me, I will give you a hefty tip if you can simply KEEP MY ICED TEA GLASS FULL.
It is likely that I will live and die in Texas.
I always bring wine to the party.
I very rarely laugh out loud. I would like to, but it rarely happens.

Step Five – Answer 11 Questions from the person who nominated you.

If you were stranded on a desert island, which storyteller would you like to be on your island? Jan Karon, because I like happy shiney stories with little darkness. I don’t need sci-fi, horror, nightmares, or murder. EVER.
Why did you choose WordPress? My husband told me to.
Do your family and friends support your passion for your blog? My family is quite supportive. Many of my friends are too busy with young children to read their mail, much less blogs.
How often do you post on your blog? Usually daily. I currently am blessed to have the time to do that.
Have you met any of your fellow WordPress Bloggers? In person? No.
What is your favorite hobby? WRITING, followed by eating and drinking.
Where do you look for inspiration for your works? Life, TV, magazines, nights of insomnia, nights in white satin (oh, scratch that) …
Would you rather read or write? Writing with my Ink Joy pen makes my wrist hurt, so typing is ideal there, although staring at a screen is bad on your eyes. So is reading if you can’t read with your left eye, because it degenerates in proportion with advancing coothood. So it’s a draw.
Who’s your favorite relative and why? It’s a tie between my husband (who cooks my meals) and son (who has my cowlicks). I also have so many great writers in my family, who have paved the way.
When you go to the Reader, do you read the blogs you follow first and then browse through the topics to find more? Back and forth. I’m usually in the mood for humor and spend hours just scrolling for something to make me laugh.
How did you hear about WordPress? The hub.

Step 6 – Nominate 5 Blogs you enjoy

The nominees for best supporting blogger in a dramatic role in a foreign film or documentary (just kidding) are as follows:

Annum Zhara- http://annumzhara.wordpress.com/ (I like GOOD pictures of food and words about food and eating food.)

Mr. Jackson – http://niallcjackson.wordpress.com/ (i love the cool picture from Havana that looked more like a skit from The Carol Burnett Show than real life)

Ben Ricard – http://http://benricard.org (neat photos, and we have to support ex-pats)

Michael – http://http://midnightpizzaproductions.wordpress.com (because everyone likes pizza–probably even communists–and i still use my VCR–and he is funny, even though he has a penchant for ginormous paragraphs)

Nancy – http://http://ourvintagelife.com/ (because her post made me cry when i didn’t want to)

Step 7 – My 11 Questions for My 5 Nominees

How often do you blog and why?
How do you like your eggs? If you don’t eat eggs, what is wrong with you?
Did your parents take enough pictures of your childhood?
Who was one of the first authors to impact your young life?
Do you own a Kindle or do you read books made of paper?
How do you feel about magazines?
You’ve just adopted a happy golden retriever and an arrogant, Siamese cat from the animal shelter. What do you name them?
Can you drive a stick shift?
If you become an award-winning writer and go on The Tonight Show to pimp your book, and companies start hounding you to endorse their product, which product would you choose to endorse? (I have already disclosed that I would endorse Ross Dress for Less, pieces of gum stuck on dressing room stall doors notwithstanding.)
Does it bother you that Bart Simpson is voiced by a woman and Miss Piggy is voiced by a man?
Should men moisturize, and have you ever met one that has?

Whew, I need a cig! Wait, I don’t smoke! That took a fortnight. Good luck to you nominees just getting through this post. The fact that we woke up with air in our lungs today is enough to be thankful for, but I also feel blessed to be a member of the WordPress community, along with all of you!

I Just Had Three Vials Of Blood Drawn, But I Can Still Operate A Camera

That's actually just lemonade. — That’s actually just lemonade.

Pelican full of leftover Valentine's candy — Pelican full of leftover Valentine’s candy

Swellest Menu Art, Part III

Today is the final installment of vintage menus. The above pic is a Thanksgiving menu, a feast that Americans celebrate at the end of November, which makes all politically correct people get their panties in a wad because Pilgrims and Indians (now called Native Americans) could never possibly have shared a squash and a smile. But whatever. We watch football with our families, gorge ourselves on turkey and casseroles, and save room for pie. Come to think of it, why would anyone be eating in a RESTAURANT on Thanksgiving? Anyhoo, here are the feast details (one may click to enlarge).

Those prices are pretty steep for modern times, and this menu is at least twenty years old. Mercy!

Here is a cute breakfast menu from Varadero International in Cuba, all in Spanish.

Coffee was A QUARTER. Can you imagine buying a beverage for ONE coin? What would the tip be? A nickel? Did waitresses walk around with jingling aprons as dimes clinked against pennies? Consider the pain involved if she chose to “make it rain up in here.”

The next menu is from the Alta Mira Continental Hotel in San Francisco. How this hideous design ever got approved is beyond me, as it’s ugly as a 1970s appliance set.

However, I would be willing to overlook that if I could still procure either the filet mignon or the Half Lobster Delight for under $5, as advertised.

Bratten’s Grotto in Utah included actual photos on their large fold-out menu:

Cattlemen’s in Fort Worth–in bright taxi-cab yellow–had an interesting cocktail menu, which included both a Tio Pepe and a Tia Maria.

This final menu shows the name of its owner in the left corner, and its age, with the dates from 1961-1972. I love the sea foam green, the cheese saltines, and the ten ways to prepare a potato.

Thanks for peeking back in time with me!

Sweller Menu Art, Part II

Today we have the second installment of menu art. This disturbing menu is from L’Etoile in Nob Hill, San Francisco. Are the cherubs protecting them from harmful UV rays? I’m concerned that m’lady is self-tuning in to Tokyo. Perhaps she is listening with her bosom–or is that Madonna’s great-great-great grandmother doing colonial vogueing?

Next is a Maison des Crepes, where you can get a crepe, salad bar, AND a drink for only $1.65. The Crepe Devil looks intriguing…

I don’t know where this is from, but frankly, it gives me the willies. The incomplete artwork looks like a storyboard scene from a Hitchcock film, and the writing is very aggressive, like they’re peeved they even had to bother with a menu. Just trying to read it out loud makes me sound like the Swedish Chef on The Muppets.

We’ll end with this festive Exposition Fish Grotto, which I’m sure you’ve heard of, since it’s “World-Famous.” Note more naked cherubs, getting merry and gay off a barrel of Paul Masson.

Yes, I also am thinking of Orson Welles right now.

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