Hello Dear Readers! It’s time once again for the Trifecta Writing Challenge. This week our prompt for the story is the third definition of crush:: to reduce to particles by pounding or grinding <crush rock>
El Guapo Guapola Takes the Plunge!
Full-Time Adventurer and Part-Time Blogger, El Guapo Guapola and his hired Sherpa, Jimmy, trudged through the snow at the base of Mount Everest, synchronizing their steps to the rhythm ofZZTop – Double Back as they began their historic ascent up the mountain.
For you see, El Guapo Guapola was about to attempt to become the very first human to bungee jump from the top of Mount Everest, and, if he was successful, he would not only have the world at his feet, he might possibly have the world as far up as his mid-thy.
“Jimmy, my man,” said El Guapo. “Hand me another clove cigarette so that I may dangle it languidly from my lips.”*
Jimmy reached into his backpack and fished out a clove cigarette. “Would you like your usual shot of Jameson to go with that?”
“But of course!” said our hero.
The only sound that could be heard was the crush of ice as Jimmy set up a full rocks glass of Jameson. EG downed the shot. Smooth* and thought about a Sunday afternoon long ago where the very same drink had been the catalyst for his historic naked dance on the bar of a pub he couldn’t remember the name of.
As they climbed higher, EG was starting to get chilled from the Arctic (or possibly Antarctic) winds and began to question his decision to wear his Lucky Rock Climbing Outfit. He was thankful he had remembered to include his ski clothes in Jimmy’s backpack.
When at last they reached the summit, Jimmy fastened the bungee cord to El Guapo Guapola’s ankle. But El Guapo just couldn’t take the cold any longer. He would have to change into his ski clothes before taking the plunge.
Quickly he tore off his rock climbing clothes. But just then his toes. Start. To Slip*.
. . . and the rest is history . . .
The Magnificent Hair of the man who wanted a pony! Happy Birthday to you!!!
Hello Dear Readers! In the words of the wise and wonderful Lucy Ricardo after drinking too much Vitameatavegamin:
“Are you tired, rundown, listless? Do you pop out at parties? Are you unpoopular?”
Well, the answer to all your problems might be that you’re low on Vitameatavegamin; then again — it might be that you are simply exhausted from too much blogging.
Seven Ways to Tell If You’re Tired, Rundown and Listless From Too Much Blogging
You’re insurance rates have gone sky high ever since you got a little mixed up from fatigue and added a new post to your car’s dashboard.
“Well if it’s any consolation, at least I remembered to Save Draft.
You instructed your hairdresser to change your personal settings and give you a new theme.
“Are you sure Mimbo Pro is going to look okay with my general settings?” “Well, we’ll find out!”
You got a little bent out of shape when your house guests left and didn’t nominate you for an award.
Yeah . . .bye . . . come again . . . NOT!
You try to leave comments on your ATM machine.
I am now telling the computer exactly what it can do with a lifetime supply of chocolate . . .
You can’t understand why the postman keeps bringing you mail of people you’re not even following.
Yeah,it says right here, “To Betty and Barnie Shlubbs” from AARP.” “What in tarnation? We would never follow them!”
You try to count how many drivers look over at you in traffic so you can feel like you’re getting a lot of traffic views.
Okay, let’s see . . . the guy in the blue truck makes four and oh oh . . . the two people in that yellow Kia just looked over . . .
You’re the only one at the movies who, instead of laughing, is shouting out the letters L O L.
L O frigging L! Gosh I’m having a good time!
And there you have it Dear Readers! If you recognized yourself in any of the above scenarios, you might want to go right out and buy yourself a great big bottle of Vitameatavegamin. That’s Vita Meata Vegamin! Because, as everybody knows, it’s the answer to all your problems!
In 1967, when I was a sophomore in high school, I fell in love with an older man. I would have married him in a heart beat too, if he had ever asked me. But alas, he never did –partly because we never met and partly because he had been dead since 1945.
The personage to whom I refer is a rather obscure gentleman that, unless you were lucky enough to have discovered his many books of humorous essays, he could be easily overlooked. His name is Robert Benchley.
This is the picture of my beloved Robert that I keep taped to my computer.
I stole Robert Benchley from my Mother. She had him on her beside table. The book was called, Love Conquers All.
One day, I took Love Conquers All to school with me and started reading it in Spanish class. The first essay I read was “Do Insects Think” in which Robert writes:
During the summer of 1899, while I was at work on my treatise “Do Larvae Laugh,” we kept a female wasp at our cottage in the Adirondacks. It really was more like a child of our own than a wasp, except that it looked more like a wasp than a child of our own. That was one of the ways we told the difference.
I had never read anything like it! I was shocked to find there were actually people out there, grown men, in fact, who made it their life’s work to be funny like this! And not Mark Twain funny or Will Rogers funny, because they were funny too. But they were an acquired taste of funny, a more mature type of humor. You had to be sophisticated and know a little bit about the world to appreciate them.
And thinking back now on when I was 15, the only thing I can remember knowing about the world is that eating an entire bag of Sweet Tarts for lunch made your mouth really sore for the rest of the day.
So you can imagine how happy I was when I realized that I could appreciate Robert Benchley’s humor without having to know a darn thing about the world!
Robert Benchley was my kind of humorist!
Robert Benchley and The Algonquin Roundtable
In the 1920’s, the coolest people in New York City were a group of witty writers, actors and celebrated personalities who met for lunch every day at the Algonquin Hotel in New York City.
Naturally, my beloved Robert Benchley was among the sparkling members of the group — which also included Dorothy Parker who said a lot of really funny things like “Way deep down he’s very superficial.” (I wanted to like Dorothy Parker, but from all that I’ve read, she really wasn’t very nice at all.)
The Algonquin Round Table in caricature by Al Hirschfeld. Seated at the table, clockwise from left: Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley, Alexander Woollcott, Heywood Broun, Marc Connelly, Franklin P. Adams, Edna Ferber, George S. Kaufman, Robert Sherwood. In back from left to right: frequent Algonquin guests Lynn Fontanne and Alfred Lunt, Vanity Fair editor Frank Crowninshield and Frank Case.
Anyway, there’s a really good movie based on the group called, Mrs. Parker and The Vicious Circle starring Jennifer Jason Leigh as Dorothy Parker. Jennifer Jason Leigh is excellent as Dorothy Parker, and Campbell Scott really nails my beloved Benchley.
Robert Benchley in Hollywood
Robert Benchley is probably most well known for his 30 comedy shorts in which he instructed audiences on things such as: How to Sleep and How to Eat.
Benchley also wrote much of the dialogue and frequently acted in many full length movies of the time as well — usually playing the part of the on-the-wagon drunk.
My two favorites are Alfred Hitchcock’s Foreign Correspondent where Benchley plays the part of Stebbins. Here’s a taste of the Benchley-esque dialogue:
Johnny Jones: This is Scott ffolliott, newspaperman same as you. Foreign correspondent. Mr. Haverstock, Mr. ffolliott. Scott ffolliott: With a double ‘F’. Johnny Jones: How do you do? Scott ffolliott: How do you do? Johnny Jones: I don’t get the double ‘F’. Scott ffolliott: They’re at the beginning. Both small ‘F’s Johnny Jones: They can’t be at the beginning. Scott ffolliott: One of my ancestors was beheaded by Henry VIII. His wife dropped the capital letter to commemorate it. There it is. Johnny Jones: How do you say it, like a stutter? Scott ffolliott: Just a straight ‘fuh’.
The other Benchley movie I dearly love is The Sky’s the Limit. It stars Fred Astaire and Robert Benchley. The plot’s really stupid but Fred Astaire performs One for My Baby where, in a drunken display of despair, he dances on the bar shattering all the glass (here). And Robert Benchley plays the sidekick character who has to deliver a speech he is totally unprepared for — check it out here.
Well, I could go on and on, Dear Readers, about my love affair with this older man. And perhaps I’ll expound upon this topic when I write my memoirs someday. I already have the title. It’s called “Do Larvae Kiss and Tell?”
Until next time . . . I love you (but not as much as Robert Benchley)
Hello Dear Readers! Well another week has rolled more or less away, and as we slide into Friday on this last day of November, we have to ask ourselves what was going on with ads from 1953? (See how I did that great segue way? Who says things don’t get done right on Friday.)
Here are some ads from a magazine called Better Living from 1953 that for some reason, my brain, Peanuts, insisted on boiling down into limericks.
There once was a product named Kleenex
That met you half-way when you sneezed next
Little LuLu and Godfrey
Got paid by the wad, see?
To get Father some money for Xanax.
When poor fifties Mom must relax
After featherdust-wacking does tax
She chews Beechnut Gum
But it makes her feel glum
What she needed was Father’s Xan-ax!
There once was a little food dude
Who claimed Wilson’s B-V was a food
It subtracted from rents
Just one point five cents
But to like it, you had to be stewed.
There once was a man who wore lipstick
People thought him the consummate dipstick
He drank coffee that sounded
Like a law firm compounded
So his wife mixed his cream with some arsenic
And there you have it, Dear Reader, the first installment and quite possibly the last installment of Limericks Base on Ads from 1953.
Roweena Patina was late for tea. Her mother-in-law, Tulip Aarff, invited her three days ago and yet, somehow, Roweena didn’t know how, she completely forgot!
Now Roweena found herself racing through the streets of Van Schmoodenfloffen, at such a furious pace that one of her wooden shoes flung itself off just as she was passing the Van Windenflooffen Bakery.
And even though Roweena felt her shoe fly off — she was in such a tizzy, she didn’t even bother stopping to retrieve it — despite the aroma of Van Boozlephaffen Pie tempting her . . . tempting her . . . tempting her!
For you see, Roweena, had managed to pile on fifty-three pounds during the annual Glockenflockenfluff Fish Festival to the mighty chagrin of her mother-in-law, Tulip Aarff.
In fact, Tulip Aarff found Roweena Patina lacking discipline in every respect — both as a human being, in general, and as a daughter-in-law in particular. Now, Tulip Aarff could add “fat” to her myriad list of Roweena Patina complaints.
For Tulip Aarff made it her hobby to find fault in the tiniest imperfections of her daughter-in-law’s personage. And today, Tulip Aarff was about to hit the jackpot when it came to her favorite amusement.
When at last Roweena arrived at the double Dutch door of her mother-in-law’s cottage, she said a prayer for protection, then knocked.
“Enter this instant!” commanded Tulip Aarff. “For the cold herring is getting warm and the warm tea is getting cold!”
When Roweena stepped inside with her shoeless foot, her disheveled apron and her bonnet hopelessly askew, Tulip Aarff gasped the Great Mother-in-Law Gasp of the Ages.
“You’re late as usual!” Tulip Aarff barked.
With a hollow smile and a sugary, sweet voice, Roweena said, “I’m only late, my dearest mother-in-law, because I was baking you this “special” Hagleslagen Cuppencaken!
When Roweena finished her tea, she bid Tulip Aarff a cheerful adieu. A cheerful adieu that Tulip Aarff failed to acknowledge, however, what with her being dead and all.
Tulip Aarff just before biting the Hagleslagen Cuppencaken dust!
Hello Dear Readers! I love Thanksgiving! It’s one of my favorite holidays. Every year I cook for my family and every year I look forward to it with great pleasure. Maybe a little too much pleasure. That’s why I’ve come up with this list of warning signs on how to tell if you are going to overdo Thanksgiving.
How to Tell if You’re Going to Overdo Thanksgiving
You’ve replaced the phrase “I love you” with the phrase “Olive you”.
You just got back from Potato Mashing Immersion Camp.
You’ve instructed your surgeon to break ground on that new stomach addition.
“So the way I see it, we can knock out a wall between the belly and the button, and we should have room for an entire bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy.
In preparation for the big feast, you’ve managed to diet down to a size bite.
Even if you were to carry out pi to a million decimals, all forms of pi will be polished off by Friday.
“Of course I didn’t eat all the pumpkin pie! You know I only like apple.”
You’ve taken to sleeping on a pillow of mini marshmallows.
Thanks to you and your voluminous Yam Stockpile the earth will be taking 6 days longer to orbit the sun.
“Gosh this week is really dragging by. What day is it?” “Yamsday.” “Still?”
You made an appointment with your dentist to get your teeth sharpened.
Your new gravy boat sleeps six.
“Move over!” “No you!”
Your husband Tom is slightly worried about you because his name is Bill.
You’ve been preheating your oven since the 4th of July.
You refuse to read, watch or listen to anything that isn’t about Jello.
“Honey! Come quick! Look! There’s Bigfoot!” “Is he in the form of a Jello mold?” “No.” “Is he carrying Jello?” “No.” “Then I’m not going to look.”
And the most obvious way to tell if you’re going to overdo Thanksgiving:
Your appendix has been officially called back into active duty for the stomach reserves.
This weekend’s Trifecta Writing Challenge is to write a story between 33 and 333 words utilizing three pictures that they have provided as prompts.
Gone with the Jupiter Wind
Vendle Grub maneuvered his craft around the Space Needle fast enough to be undetected by human eyes; but not so fast that he didn’t get a useable snippet of molecules from which to recreate a replica of it back on Jupiter.
You see, Vendle Grub was an Earth Aficionado. There was nothing Vendle Grub liked better than collecting earth souvenirs for Jupiter’s Little Earth which is what Vendle called his backyard.
Of course, most of the landmarks Vendle collected would eventually blow away, living as he did in the eye of a 400-year hurricane of epic proportions, but Vendle persisted anyway, partly because he was determined, and partly because it was a good reason to get off the planet and away from the constant gurgling of his nagging wife, Davenportia — who couldn’t even be bothered to remember his name.
On their last trip to earth, Davenportia thought Vendle had taken entirely too many boring pictures.
One time, Vendle Grub brought back molecules from the Amazon jungle, and proceeded to recreate a replica of it in the backyard. He down played it by telling Davenportia it was nothing more than a really big ant farm.
Jungle schmugle . . . it’s an ant farm!
Davenportia was okay with having the Amazon Jungle in her back yard at first. In fact, she loved the Piranha (either mixed with yogurt or just straight out of the pond). But neither one of them could ever figure out how to twist the tops off the bottle-nosed dolphins, and the yard work was ridiculous — so they were both relieved when it finally blew away.
When Vendle returned home with the Space Needle, Davenportia was overjoyed! Finally what’s his name, brought home something useful! Davenportia poked some holes in some leather (a Jupiter token of love) using the her new Space Needle! When Vendle saw what Davenportia had made for him, he was deeply touched and took out his White Out (Jupiter’s version of the ballpoint pen) and scrawled lovingly:
hi! I’m________and i’m completely inlove with you.V
But before he could hand it back, it blew away.
* * *
Dear Readers! I gallivanted to my mailbox this morning, and discovered I had another suitor!
It seems Xfinity is now in crazy, passionate occupant love with little ol’ moi!
Ah! Be still my beating letter opener!
First off, no matter what I decide about whether I’m going to allow myself to be “wooed” by Xfinity, they want me to know that this plastic card that was attached to the occupant love letter is mine to keep!
When it comes to occupant love, a plastic card is the equivalent of a diamond engagement ring except it’s not as sparkly, it can’t cut glass, and isn’t worth diddly, but still . . . .
Then there’s this:
Don’t worry, you don’t need to read it, it’s way too boring, (sigh) however I did read it and here’s what it more or less says:
If you pay Xfinity $30 every month, they’ll put security cameras all over your house so that if you decide to go to Hawaii, you’ll be able to sit on the beach and stare at your house on your smart phone to make sure everything is still not stolen every minute of every day until it’s time to come home.
Or it means you’ll be able to actually watch live on your smart phone as a burglar breaks into your house and steals all your stuff!
And Xfinity is also offering the handy feature of being able to control the lights in your home remotely so that while you are sitting on the beach in Hawaii you can turn the lights on in your house in order to better see the burglar who is stealing all your stuff.
Jeepers! That’s a pretty good deal Xfinity is offering little ol’ moi! Let’s see what other occupant tokens of love Xfinity is throwing at me to win my affections:
Oh Goody! A touch screen controller . . .So when my grandson touches all the buttons trying to access Elmo, it will accidentally trigger the swat team to be dispatched to my house. Well, okay, that’s pretty cool.
And, with this 3 window/door sensors Xfinity is offering to provide me with much needed help when it comes to sensing which is a door and which is a window. Well that’s over-the-top thoughtful! I’m really liking the direction Xfinity is going in with this one!
Oh wow! Every time we move, an alarm will go off at the police department! Well, I’m all for that. Who wouldn’t be?
Woo-hoo! A keypad! Xfinity doesn’t say what this if for but I think we all know by now, don’t we? That’s right. It’s the Xfinity Wireless Keypad to my heart! Because Xfinity has finally managed to woo me with their tokens of occupant affection.
All that’s left to say to Xfinity is, “you had me at “Dear Linda Vernon and/or Occupant: My beloved OOXXOOXXfinity!”
And that’s what came in the mail today, Dear Readers.
Until next time . . . I still love you but not quite as much as I do you know who
Remember being ten? When life was fresh and easy and filled with simple pleasures?
We were light as a feather when we were ten! We turned cartwheels and skipped and hopped for no other reason than because we could.
At ten, the present moment unfolded naturally. We just were and it just was. We were a part of “all that is” and our ten-year-old hearts knew it!
It was a time when we were sure about where we belonged in the world, and what was expected of us. We were satisfied to accept each day as it came. Most of us had no idea of what the future held nor did we care!
Oh we had our little setbacks. We laughed and we cried, but either way, we were real and true to ourselves. Why? Because we didn’t know any different.
We were traveling light – in a fresh, new world.
Me at ten, peeling the world’s largest potato!
This is is me at ten. As you can see, I’m wearing an outfit that doesn’t match. The skirt was red plaid and the sweater was blue and white plaid. Did I care? Of course not. It was my most comfortable outfit, and I remember wearing it often.
I was at my grandparent’s house when this picture was taken, and I had just learned how to peel potatoes. I remember being happy about that. I was capable and I was making a contribution. Grandad even got out the camera, so I must have been peeling pretty impressively.
But, alas, like everything else, the thrill of potato peeling eventually wore off (probably later that night). So that today, the only thrill I get around potatoes is when they happened to be mashed with lots of gravy sitting on my plate.
eeeeeYummmmm!
Still, what if we were to takethat essence of being ten and incorporate into our everyday lives. If we could somehow conjure up that feeling of having every possibility open to us — unjaded and shining — and with all the time in the world to explore!
What if we could just look at life through the uncomplicated eyes of our ten-year-old selves — maybe we’d remember how it was when we were experts at life — before we grew up and lost our way.
I say we go peel some potatoes? I will if you will!
This 1967 recipe booklet features recipes by Italy Expert, Ruth Conrad Bateman.
Dear Readers. Back in 1967, the reigning queen when it came to Italy Food was this woman.
Ruth loves to cook Italy food but don’t bother Ruth when she is cooking Italy food or talking about cooking Italy food. Can’t you see she’s trying to concentrate? Ruth is an expert on Italy food. Ruth looked Italy up in a World Atlas. Did you know Italy is shaped like a boot? Ha! Ruth Conrad Bateman didn’t think so.
Now this isn’t the first time this blog has fallen all over itself pointing out the Italy food cooking expertise of Ruth Conrad Bateman, but, obviously, this blog just can’t get enough of Ruth Conrad Bateman! And who could?
Let’s look a little closer at Ruth’s deep understanding of a country you may or may not have heard of before called Italy. Here is just a smattering of Ruth Conrad Bateman’s Italy food wisdom. Ruth says:
Good advice, Ruth Conrad Bateman. So allow this blog to summarize Ruth’s wonderful advice, if it may be so bold:
When Italy people get sauced, they want more pasta than sauce, and they like their pasta dressed in butter and cheese.
When American people get sauced, they want more sauce than pasta and they don’t care what it’s wearing.
Next here’s Ruth Conrad Bateman’s explanation for how Italy people cook eggplant the Italy way like Italy people do.
Good advice again, Ruth Conrad Bateman! (How does she do it?) So allow this blog to summarize Ruth’s wonderful advice for broiling Italy Egg Plant, the Italy way, if it may be so bold:
Broil some eggplant
And finally, Ruth Conrad Bateman sets us straight about Italy Meat Sauce Bolognese:
Ruth Conrad Bateman says this Italy sauce is for cannelloni, spaghetti and other pasta. What other pasta? Ruth Conrad Bateman says if she is granted an audience with the pope who actually lives in Italy and if he gives her a special dispensation to disclose the other pasta . . then maybe she’ll tell us what it is but don’t get your hopes up because Ruth Conrad Bateman is kind of a little brat especially about Italy stuff.
Ruth tells us that this recipe for Meat Sauce Bolognese is made of Italy Bologna in the town of Bologna which is the Eating Capital of Italy. This blog doesn’t even have to look at Ruth Bateman’s recipe for Meat Sauce Bolognese in order to summarize it:
Even though this Italy recipe is full of Italy balogna
It will never be as full of Italy balogna as the weird and wonderful Italy Food Expert Ruth Conrad Bateman!
Uh oh . . . is it this blog’s imagination or is Ruth Conrad Bateman giving us the Italy evil eye?
Is this the Italy Evil Eye of Ruth Conrad Bateman?
Uh . . . this might be a good time to bid you Salve! Dear Readers — which is Italy talk for “bye”.
Now . . slowly . . . very slowly . . . let’s just . . . back out . . . of . . . the . . . . room . . . shh . . .
And now for this weekend’s challenge which was very, very difficult because it required . . . gulp . . . . math. Well sort of. Here’s the challenge:
Andy Rooney created something called “The 50-50-90 rule: anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there’s a 90% probability you’ll get it wrong.”
The Trifecta Challenge is to come up with our own probability equation. In 33 words, of course.
E=MC Squandered
If you spend $100,000 on a lavish wedding, and there’s a 50% chance of rain –whether it rains or not–there’s a 100% chance you’ll soon wish you had that $100,000 back.
“What’s the matter?” “Oh I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to figure out if this is $100,000 worth of fun.
Hello Dear Readers. Hey! Look what I found from 1982!
In an effort to include everybody on the face of the earth, this 1982 Time Saver’s Cook Book bills itself as “A People’s Friend Special” with more than 300 money-stretching recipes not to be confused with more than 300 stomach-stretching recipes.
Today we are taking a little trip back in time to the year 1982. A time when it was considered attractive to wear football shoulder pads underneath all your dresses and a time when every wishbone wish in America was to wake up with cowlicks covering 90 percent of your head.
“Hey, How’d you get your hair to go so good?” “I wished for cowlicks.”
Let’s take a closer look at the 80’s through the pages of A People’s Friend Special, Time Saver’s Cook Book and see what people considered edible back in 1982 or as it is sometimes referred to by Food Historians 198eww.
Super Waffles 198eww Style
Now here’s a real 80’s treat! Waffles covered with things that don’t go with waffles at all. Like tomatoes! And kidneys! And whatnot!
The recipe says: Sausage and Tomato and waffles . . .okay Spicy Bacon and waffles . . . okay Savory Kidney and waffles . . . uh well, I prefer savory pancreas on my waffles but maybe that’s just me.
Let’s take a closer look at the 198eww deliciousness:
“Dear God! It’s moving!”
Although this looks a bit suspicious, the recipe absolutely insists this is a waffle and not a shingle! Therefore, what is on it is not what you’re thinking is on it even though it looks exactly like what you’re thinking is on it.
But please don’t think about what’s on it anymore, Dear Readers, because you wouldn’t want to ruin your appetite for:
Whatever This Is
Here’s a chicken recipe that calls for Kellogg’s Bran Flakes. I know you’re probably thinking the same thing I am right now which is : K E Double L O Double Good! But let’s not be too hasty, Puddin’ (a little cookbook humor, hope you don’t mind) This 198eww recipe is called Crunchy Chicken. But whatever happens when you bite into it, try to remember above all else that it is supposedto be crunchy.
And finally our Pièce de résistance from 198eww:
Speghetti O Noooooooooo! Pie. Among other strange items, the recipe calls for one pound of puff pastry thawed. So at least it’s got thawed pastry going for it! The recipe also cries out for frankfurters, mushrooms and one beaten (within inches of its life I’ll bet) egg.
Unfortunately there is nothing in the ingredients that would account for the unidentified miscellaneous chunks floating around at large (and small). Well, we must remember that in the 198eww, absolutely nothing made sense. Even though we loved pretending it did!
Dear Readers! As Lucy Ricardo might ask, “Are you tired, run down, listless? Do you poop out at parties? Are you unpopular? The answer to all your problems is in this little bottle book that I just happened find while rummaging around in my favorite thrift store:
For faster results, read while drinking one bottle of vitameatavegamin
This little volume was edited by the staff of Journal of Living in 1952 about the same time that Lucy Ricardo was pitching for Vitameatavegamin. Let’s take a look inside to see what 1950’s wisdom awaits us, shall we?
In chapter one, writer, Betty Pratt, tells us about her visit to Dr. Rathbone’s Scientific Relaxation Class!
Obviously, brave writer, Betty Pratt had no idea she was taking her life into her own hands by entering into the fray of Dr. Rathbone’s Scientific Relaxation Class. All this tautness relieving in the form of face screwing and arm swinging was probably downright dangerous!
Next, Dr. Rathbone relayed to Betty Pratt his rules for sleeping.
Dr. Rathbone told Betty Pratt he would like people to start getting ready for bed right after breakfast, but if that is not possible then somewhere in the neighborhood of 10:00 a.m. should give the sleeper plenty of time to leisurely prepare for going to bed, Dr. Rathbone stated after looking at his watch and noting the time to be somewhere in the neighborhood of 10:00 a.m.
Dr. Rathbone could not stress enough to writer, Betty Pratt, what a big mistake tearing off one’s clothes is under most circumstances. If, however, a person happened to be a romance writer doing research then it would be considered a perfectly reasonable approach. He then asked Betty Pratt if she was planning to write a romance novel any time soon to which Betty Pratt responded by soundly slapping Dr. Rathbone’s face .
Dr. Rathbone responded to Writer Betty Pratt’s slap to his face with the following bit of advice:
Shortly after this Betty Pratt’s husband, Brawny Pratt, showed up to calm and relax Dr. Rathbone’s nerves by physically persuading him into a coma.
Which is really is the most effective way to calm one’s nerves and relax.
And don’t worry. All Dr. Rathbone needed was a couple of bottles of Vitameatavegamin and he was back to his old self in no time. Attempting to scientifically calm and relax women’s people’s nerves day in and day out!
