Of course, we’re all looking forward to the beginning of summer, but here’s some signs you might be over-anticipating the summer fun.
You’ve replaced all your belts with inner tubes.
“Really, Barbara, must you wear that silly inner tube?” “If I want to keep my pants up, I do, Betty!”
You refuse to eat anything that doesn’t come on a stick.
“Hi, yes I”ll have a corn dog.” “Sorry, we don’t have corn dogs.” “Then give me some cotton candy.” “Sorry, no cotton candy.” “Popcicle?” “Nope.” “Shish Kabob?” “No.” “Would you by any chance have a carmeled apple or chocolate banana on a stick? “Just order a Happy Meal, Bub.”
You’ve asked Al Gore for a little extra “fun in the sun” global warming.
What’s that? You want a little more global warming? Oh yeah? Come up here a minute, I’ll give you a little extra global warming!”
You’ve got a bee up your bonnet and you’ve never been happier!
“Yes bees! Summer’s here! Somebody get me my bonnet!”
Two Words: Thong City
What? Wait . . . not those kind of thongs!
You’ve gone a little crazy because you can’t find your pail and shovel.
Wait a minute fellas! Dear God! Is that my pail and shovel over there?
You refuse to relax on anything that doesn’t inflate.
“Come on Marge! You’ve been out there 17 hours. Don’t you want to come in for dinner?” “That depends . . .did you get the inflatable dining set blown up yet?”
You’re getting a reputation as someone who has a lot of beach balls!
“Wow! Those are impressive balls!” “Thank you!’
And there you have it Dear Readers! Now get out there and have a great weekend.
Hello Dear Readers! What shall we do today? Hm . . . Oh I know! Let’s look at how Moms have been portrayed as Brain Dead through the decades. As it just so happens, I found a few vintage cookbooks that we can use to contrast and compare.
Brain Dead Mom from 1937
Poor Brain Dead Mom from 1937! It looks like she might have infused just a tad too much personality into her baked goods. So much so that they are now holding her hostage. And is her shadow sprouting a horn? Oh my! But somehow Brave Brain Dead Mom of 1937 still manages to smile even though she can’t quite hide the terror in those vacant peepers of hers.
Brain Dead Mom from 1953:
Ah! Brain Dead Mom from 1953 is clearly relieved and happy now. The War is over! Hitler’s dead! And, judging from her eyes, her doctor just prescribed a lifetime supply of Seconal for her anxiety as well as Benzedrine to be taken every ten minutes to ensure her waist circumference stays at 11-and-1/2-inches. Which gives Brain Dead Mom from 1953 lots and lots of energy so she can dedicate her entire existence to cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking . . .
Brain Dead Mom from 1959
Brain Dead Mom from 1959 has her act together! No more cowering in the horn-sprouting shadows from her baked goods. No more mindless cooking and cooking and cooking. No sir! When one gazes into the eyes of Brain Dead Mom from 1959, one can clearly detect a Valium-induced, vague optimism for the future of her country, the future of her family and the future of her green pepper. Clearly Brain Dead Mom of 1959 is a more confident women than her predecessors. Why? Because she doesn’t know any better, that’s why!
Brain Dead Mom From 1965
A Ring a ding ding, Baby! Brain Dead Mom from 1965 has it all going on! She doesn’t even have to open her eyes anymore! Oh sure she’s still popping a few “bennies” now and then, but come on! How else is she going to maintain her 11- and-1/2-inch waist what with all the food she’s been eating and all those martinis she’s been swilling with her new devil-may-care attitude? Brain Dead Mom from 1965 would never cower from her own baking! Ha ha! Don’t make her laugh! Because Brain Dead Mom from 1965 has a life! She’s fancy! She’s frivolous! She’s fun! And somewhere along the line she learned to play the triangle!
I have a feeling there are lots and lots of other examples of Brain Dead Moms Through the Decades out there on the shelves of my favorite thrift store! And I make this pledge to you, Dear Readers, that I will not rest until I have messed up everything on the shelf looking for them!
Until next time . . . I love you
. . .. and cooking and cooking cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking and cooking . . .to be continued . . .
Hello Dear Readers. Well, if this is Wednesday, it must be Friday. Because at this blog, Wednesdays are the new Fridays!
That’s because Rochelle Wisoff-Fields over at Addicted to Purple is the gracious hostess of Friday Fictioneers even though she doesn’t serve refreshments (that I know of) — where writers are inspired to write a 100-word story based on the weekly posted picture. Here’s this week’s picture:
window-dressing-janet-webb.jpg
Louise Goes on a Date
But Louise, how could you borrow a Pietro Pairajelli dressfrom your place of work to wear to the movies with Howard?
“Well, I didn’t know we’d get robbed waiting in line, and they’d steal the Pietro Pairajelli and Howard’s toupee — the only two things we had of value. I had to watch the movie in my slip, Betty, and poor Howard caught pneumonia and died.”
“From the draft on his head?”
“Uh huh. And now I’ll be fired.”
“Wait! Isn’t that the Pietro Pairajelli over there on the fire escape, Louise?”
“Yes!”
You’re the luckiest person on earth, Louise!
“I know, huh.”
* * *
And there you have it Dear Readers. This week’s story came in at 104 words no matter how much I tried to cram it into 100 — some stories just refuse to cooperate!
Dear Readers. I would like to make a formal apology at this time to the decade of the 1970’s. Lately, I’ve been mercilessly picking on how strange, weird and downright creepy the seventies were. But then, after not thinking about it very much, I decided who cares? So join me won’t you as we laugh at the seventies and not with them.
Let’s flip through the pages of this Woman’s Day Knit & Stitch Magazine from 1973, shall we?
She’s a 70’s Gal, and she’s all gussied up in the knitted robe and matching knitted knickers she knitted! knitted! knitted! herself! Because in the seventies, not only did gals know how to knit! — they also knew how to pretend they were actually going to wear the stuff they knitted out in public! But you never actually saw anyone out and about wearing a get-up such as this one, except for maybe Mick Jagger who combined a hat deceitfully tipped below one eye and a scarf (but it was apricot.)
Have Beach Mat Will Travel Will Not Have Fun!
Well here’s a case where the 70’s sewing project has not only taken center stage, but also has taken over this poor woman’s life. Oh sure, she’s at the beach but all the fun is clearly being had by the beach mat itself. Do you get the feeling this 70’s woman doesn’t make a move without consulting the lady on her beach mat first?All the instruction on how to make this groovy beach bag that doubles as a fun-loving beach mat are included in the magazine. Unfortunately, there are no instructions about how to tell if the clogs you wear with it are three sizes too small.Aside from the fact that this looks a little like the Second Coming of Christ (when shrunk down smaller), it was also one of the miracle ways to kill some serious 70’s decade time. The Heir-Loom was an ingenious gadget that made daisies and more daisies and more daisies until the daisy-maker became trapped in a sea of her own daisy-making madness. She would go so nutty she would start making clothing out of the daisies and then a house and then a car and then . . dear lord! . . . a daisy dust cover for the entire planet earth! The only thing that will stop her is the second coming. Pray for the second coming dear readers! Pray like you’ve never prayed before!See? When shrunk doesn’t this picture look like the second coming?
And there you have it, Dear Reader. Today’s romp through the ridiculous fields the the 70’s. I hope you had as much fun as I did laughing at the 70’s expense!
Hello Dear Readers! It’s Wedfrinesday again. Where writers are challenged to stretch their synapses in the Making-Stuff-Up Hemisphere of the brain every Friday by writing a 100-word story from a picture prompt posted on Wednesday by Rochell Wisoff-Fields!
I know it sounds confusing the way I’m explaining it. But that’s because while I was stretching my synapses, I got a cramp . . .
When Sally saw the condition of the phone, her heart — which was located almost in the middle of her chest — (but too far to the left for her boyfriend, Charlie’s liking) — sank.
Sally’s eyes welled up with tears nearly simultaneously-; the right welling faster than the left (something Charlie abhorred). Sally grabbed the receiver with her right-hand while wiping tears away with her left and dialed Charlie’s number with her nose — located basically in the middle (but off centered enough to be unattractive Charlie thought) of Sally’s face.
Dear Readers! I’ve been away from my blog for four whole days! My kids visited, and we all whooped it up Vernon Style in a combination, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Spring Birthday, Memorial Day celebration! Gosh we had a good time! We figure it will hold us over until June when we’ll all get together again to celebrate National Accordion Month! (Can! Not! Wait!)
But Dear Readers, as you know, life isn’t all fun and games. No siree! Sometimes life is a serious business and as such, you have to get the most out of every single minute — which brings us to today’s topic:
What Color Is Your Parachute You Wish You Had Right Now?
“Ha ha! A must read for anybody hanging by their necks until dead” — The Executioner’s Quarterly
Clear and Present Danger, Tell Me Something I Don’t Know Edition
“A real no duh, engrossingly obvious read!’ — Hangin’ Judge
Amy Vanderbilt’s Complete Book of Swinging Back and Fourth Etiquette
“A complete guide to avoiding that final faux pas!” — Washington State Penitentiary’s Gallows Supervisor
The Pit and Hey Lookee Me I’m the Pendulum
“Great last-minute death-penalty zen tips” — Zen Masters Weekly
The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People Who Can’t Breath
“I heartily recommend this to anyone who is undergoing personal changes from, say, alive to dead.” — Pope Benedict XVI
Literally Lord of the Flies
“The most effective step-by-step fly management program to date.” –The Association of American Fly Farmers
The Agony and the Ecstasy Only Ixnay on the Ecstasyay
“The Agony and the Ecstasy abridged version that ‘Death Penaltees’ won’t be able to put down until it drops out of their hands on its own accord.!” Billy the Kid’s Ghost
Ο Things to Do Before You Die, The Heavily Discounted Edition
“Literally thousands of great suggestions not included! And at a price you’ll love” — Necktie Party Publishers Weekly
And there you have it, Dear Readers! Now, I must admit, this post was a little weird even for me. I’m blaming it on too much cake while whooping it up with the family. I’m really going to have to watch it at next months National Accordion Celebration!
