Month: December 2021

Sports Illustrated Brings Us 1963

Linda Vernon Flipping Through Vintage Magazines, The Daily Routine, Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , ,

Oh Dear Readers!  Look what crossed my path yesterday at the used bookstore!

Illustration of woman relaxing on a yatch in a two-piece Swim suit circa 1963
A Sports Illustrated Magazine from 1963!  Isn’t it wonderful? Let’s flip through it together, shall we?

Here’s 1963, Master’s Champion Jack Nicklaus  singing the praises of the MacGregor Woods with their exclusive penetrating impregnation method! Wow! Now that’s impressive!

Ad from Sports Illustrated 1963 Golf Ad
Golf in 1963 was sure a lot more interesting than it is now.

The ad goes on to explain that the exclusive penetrating impregnation method was the most talked about club feature in golf!  (Well, I should say so!)  “Because it let’s you use a wood with confidence in bad lies.”  Gosh I wonder if Tiger knows about this?

 

Hey! Who doesn’t want to live in a world where shirts were only $5.00 raise your hand!

Man in car driving away
Shh . . . don’t tell Mr.Sophisticated City Dweller who is wearing his Dacron Docoma Breeze shirt that the poor country bumpkins who just got off the  b.u.s. are laughing at him not with him.

Stuffed shirts didn’t come any less wrinkle-free than in 1963 thanks to Docoma Breeze shirts boasting Grip-Tab, Dress ‘n Play, Blake collars — which only cool city dwellers could afford at $5 a pop.  And if that didn’t make a man want to drive around Manhattan, mannequin-like, in a car three-sizes too small –1963 doesn’t know what did!

 

Don’t Worry Honey! Kent’s Micronite Filter makes cigarettes good for you!

Blah Blah
This Kent ad is the very first and the very last ad to utilize the phrase “refines away”.

Apparently back in 1963, the key to smoking fun was getting the cigarette to have the mildest taste of all!  Kent was hoping that smokers wouldn’t put 2 and 2 together and realize that the mildest taste of all would be not smoking any cigarettes at all.

 

Question!  What’s more fun than shooting guns with daddy?   Shooting guns with daddy in the house!  What else?

Father and Son unpacking Daisy BB Range
Run for cover,Sis! Look out Spot! Whoops sorry, Dear!

What better way for  fathers to bond with their sons and to teach their sons to grow up to be men than by shooting bb guns with them in the house?  Oh sure, a few of mother’s prized figureens may have to be sacrificed, and little Suzie’s buttox will probably never be the same — but it’s a small price to pay for teaching little boys what it really means to be a man — 1963 style!

Now then wasn’t that fun?  I hope you liked our little foray into the world of 1963, Dear Readers!

Until next time . . . I love you

Big Bucks Barbie

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , , ,

Hello Dear Readers!  For those of you who just woke up from a coma, congratulations!  You’re just in time for Christmas!!  Don’t worry if you haven’t got your shopping done yet.  I haven’t either and I haven’t even been in a coma.  So while I’m out shopping, here’s a little Christmas shopping story about the year my daughter wanted a My Size Barbie!  

Big Bucks Barbie

One year my daughter asked Santa for a “My Size Barbie.”  A “My Size Barbie” is a Barbie doll that has been fed huge amounts of hormones at the factory causing her to become the size of Daryl Hannah.

Picture of My Size Barbie in a Blue Dress   Daryl Hanna on Red Carpet

To ensure that “My Size Barbie” would be in stock, I went to the toy store early.   I approached the Barbie aisle and was about to ask where I might find The Big One, when I tripped over a humongous box containing “My Size Barbie” nearly breaking “My Size Arm.”

The adrenalin rush I experienced from the fall enabled me to heft the package containing The Incredible Babs onto my cart, but not being Arnold Schwartzenegger (or even Maria Shriver), I wasn’t strong enough to maneuver the box so that I could see the price tag.

I inched my Barbie-burdened cart to the checkout stand where it took four of us to hoist The Big Gal onto the scanner, and I mentally noted that perhaps some low-fat Barbie cuisine would make an apropos stocking stuffer.

Being an alert consumer, I had estimated the price at around $40, $50 or maybe even $60.

“Do you know how much this is?” I asked the clerk.

“I’ll let you know in a sec, hon,” she said as she fired up the jaws of life to help her run Buxom Barb over the scanner.

As I waited for the price to appear, I recalled a Christmas of long ago when I had received a Barbie Dream House.  My mother had lovingly assembled it all by herself.  It had taken her the better part of the Kennedy administration.

Barbie's first dream house
Assembles in four years

That had been my favorite Christmas and I owed it all to my mother and to my Barbie.  How ironic that this Christmas I would be giving my daughter The Mother of All Barbies.

“Excuse me ma’am? The “My Size Barbie’ is $128.  Did you still want it?”

One-hundred and twenty-eight dollars!  Suddenly everything began to move in slow motion.  I could feel myself turning white . . . then red . . . then green . . . like an aluminum Christmas tree on a rotating stand.

I looked at the clerk, then back at the 20 or so people waiting in line behind me.  They were all staring at me and sighing a lot.  Maybe they were thinking that I shouldn’t let my daughter down for a few lousy bucks and that I should forget the expense because, after all, it was Christmas.  Finally, a gentleman from the back of the line offer his advice:

“Move it lady!”

Then the clerk from the neighboring checkout stand shouted over, ” My niece has one of those and they can  wear the same clothes!” And then, just to bring it on home, she added, “I think she comes with an entire wardrobe!”

The clerk and I quickly tried to figure out how many outfits were included, but that information was on the opposite side of the box and somebody else was using the forklift.

In the end, I paid with a check so big it would have made “My Size Barbie” proud.  And as the crane lowered The Ultimate Barbie onto the roof of my car, I knew in my heart I had made the right decision.

“A little to the left!”
When Christmas morning came, my little girl would open her very special present, and the wonder and joy that is Christmas would be captured again for one brief, shining moment.

I say brief because the day after Christmas, I made “My Size Barbie” go out and get a job.

Until next time . . . I love you

A Visit From the Toaster Reviewer Gal!

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , , ,

Welcome Dear Readers!  Today the Toaster Reviewer Gal was kind enough to drop by the blog and leave a copy of the cover letter she wrote for a Toaster Reviewer job she is hoping to get.  Let’s take a look at it, shall we?

Position Applied for:  Toaster Reviewer 

Dear Hiring Manager:

Your posting on LinkedIn for a Professional Toaster Reviewer recently caught my eyes, perked up my ears and blew my nose (jk).   I think you will find that I am an exceptional candidate for the position of Toaster Reviewer.

While I have been temporarily out of work for the last three years (don’t ask), I have still managed to stay on top of my game in the field of toaster reviewing.

You see, I currently own and operate a Hamilton Beach SmartToast Extra-Wide Slot 2 Slice Toaster with Tongs, upon which I keep my Toaster  Reviewing skills as sharp as a butter knife by making toast each morning and recording all my thoughts and feelings about my toasting adventures in my journal entitled,  “Scraping to Desired Lightness” (which is currently making the rounds at various publishing houses on the island of Guam, btw).

As an accomplished Toaster Reviewer, many of my reviews can be found on many high-level consumer review toaster websites such as:

Google Toast (www.googletoast.com)

So You’re Going to Have a Piece of Toast (www.soyou’regoingtohaveapieceoftoast.com)

Unplug the Smoke Detectors Kids!, Mommy’s Makin’ Toast! (www.goop.com).

But my accomplishments do not end there.  I also offer exceptional attention to detail and come to the position with my private list of some of the most powerful toaster-review adjectives in the Toaster-Reviewing industry today–which I have gleaned over the course of my career as an international Professional Toaster Reviewer Career Gal!

As a Professional Toaster Reviewer Career Gal, I have written these e-books, which are, unfortunately, only available on Amazon Guam, but still!

Toaster Book one

 

Toaster Gal Book two

Toaster book 3

My accomplishments and qualifications are further detailed in my hard copy resume which is on it’s way to you via the Guam postal service.  Please disregard the burned edges, frankly the Hamilton Beach SmartToast Extra-Wide Slot 2 Slice Toaster with Tongs, still has some bugs that need working out in my professional opinion as a Professional Toaster Reviewer Gal (see above).

In closing, I am as thrilled about being a part of your Professional Toaster Reviewer team as you must be at receiving this cover letter from me.  (That’s  a Haiku, btw!)

Please contact me at my earliest convenience, and I look forward to our mutual admiration.

Sincerely,

Everybody’s Favorite Toaster Reviewer Gal!

And there you have it, Dear Readers, and I don’t know about you but I think she’s got a pretty good chance. Especially if there’s an opening in Guam!

Until next time  . . . I love you

 

 

Gregory’s Bible Stories: What God Hath Whittled

Linda Vernon Gregorys Bible Stories, Sunday School Dropout Bible Stories, The Daily Routine , , , , , , , , , ,

Welcome Dear Readers to this week’s edition of Gregory’s Bible Stories. Today in Sunday school Gregory couldn’t wait to get home to tell everyone about what he learned about the Garden of Eden.  Let’s listen in, shall we?

Gregory's Bible StoriesWhat God Hath Whittled

When last we left God, He had just finished making Adam out of dirt.  Adam turned out great, much better than the dust bunnies God had made the previous day — which even He had to admit didn’t resemble bunnies that much.

dust bunnie or unicorn duck
“Hm . . . maybe I should call them Unicorn Ducks instead.

Then God put Adam in the Garden of Eden that God had just planted all by Himself.  He tried to elicit Adam’s help, but Adam was horrible at taking initiative. God wanted to fire Adam and replace him with someone more competent but He came to this conclusion only after He had used the last of the dirt for potting soil.

After watching Adam live in the Garden of Eden ad nasuem, it soon became apparent to God that Adam was a bit of a mess cat. It wasn’t long before Adam had overrun the pond with dirty dishes, strewn banana peels everywhere and overflowed the laundry hamper with dirty fig leafs.

Then the Lord said, “It is not good for the man to live alone.  I will make a suitable companion to help him.”  To which Adam replied, “Hallelujah!”

So God made a quick trip to the Soil-Eleven and got some more dirt and formed all the animals and birds.  Then He brought them to Adam to see what Adam would name them.  Biblical Scholars believe the conversation might have gone something like this:

God:  So, Adam, what do you want to name this really cool animal thingie I just made that has a tail like a beaver, a bill like a duck, webbed feet and this really cool spiky-thing in the back that has poison in it?

Adam:  Kitty.

God:  Kitty.  Really?  That’s it. Kitty?

Adam:  Kittypus?

God:  That’s the best you can come up with?

Adam:  Don’t you like Kittypus?

God:  Not really.

Adam:  Is it made out of  dirt?

God:  Actually I made this one out of Playdough.

Adam:  How about Playdough Pus?

God: Okay, but only if you’re sure it won’t get mangled in the translation thousands of years from now.

Adam:  I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life — except that I hate the taste of apples.

When God realized that none of the animals was going to be a suitable companion to help Adam, He decided using dirt as a construction material just wasn’t cutting it.

But hey! Speaking of cutting it . . . –why not cut a bone out of Adam and use it to make his companion? (This was way before baling wire had been invented.)

The Lord posed this question to Himself out loud but quietly so Adam wouldn’t hear Him. But Adam did hear and tried to run away by running  around and around the Tree of Knowledge.

God tried explaining to Adam that it wasn’t going to do any good to run away because the question was rhetorical, but Adam didn’t know what rhetorical meant as, up to that point, anyway, he couldn’t stand the taste apples.

Finally, God stuck His Almighty Foot out and tripped Adam and Adam fell down into a deep sleep.  Then God thought, what bone can I take out of Adam that he won’t miss?

Then God snapped His almighty Fingers. He would take out Adam’s middle ear bone, the stirrup.  But when God went to take it out, He saw that Adam had broken it when he fell — so God had to put a cast on it instead.

Then God remembered how much fun it had been making Adam’s ribs.  All He had to do was put the mud in His hands, close His fist and Voila!  All you can eat ribs!

So the Lord God decided to use Adam’s rib to make a companion for Adam. He figured Adam would never know the difference anyway, because as much as God was loath to admit it, it was beginning to look like the Tree of Knowledge was kind of a lost cause on Adam.

So God pulled out one of Adam’s ribs and began whittling away everything that wasn’t a woman . . .

Well that’s all Gregory had time for today, Dear Readers.  Please check back next week to find out what exactly it is that God hath whittled.

Until next time . . . I love you

Just us Playdough Pusses

God Removing Adam's Rib Coloring Page
God Removing Adam’s Rib Coloring Page

 

Childhood Illnesses of the 50’s that Really Sucked

Linda Vernon 1950's , , , ,

Back in the 50’s, life was a lot simpler than it is now.  The only people who wore seat belts were test pilots. The only people who wore helmets were human cannon balls, and the only people who didn’t smoke like chimneys were nuns.

But when it came to illnesses, we were all pretty much screwed.

We fifties babies were issued one vaccine in the hospital for small pox, and then we were sent home to not die of smallpox. But for everything else, we babies were on our own.

We had to take our chances out there in the cold, cruel, lard-infested world with nary a helmet, a shin pad or a government-approved baby car seat to protect us. (To be fair, my baby brother did have a car seat.  It hooked to the middle of the front seat and had a steering wheel.)

Come to think of it, just making it home from the hospital alive was a miracle.  Since there were no car seats,  I suppose some babies might have bought the farm by rolling off the back seat when Dad slammed on his brakes.

But whenever that happened I think they just flipped a uey and went right back to the hospital and grabbed another baby.  After all, this was the 50’s, and there were plenty more where that came from.

Fun Fact:  Whenever anyone ordered a round for the bar back in the 50’s, they were talking about a round of babies. 

Anyway, once we made it home alive, the first thing we did was get sick with one of the following childhood illnesses:

Measles:  

Measles were little red spots that would suddenly appear all over your body. One minute you’d be pulling the string on your Chatty Cathy and then next minute,  Ping!  Ping! Ping!  You’ve got the measles! They didn’t hurt or itch or anything.  You just had to go around looking stupid.

There were two  types of measles:  The Three-day Measles and the dreaded . . .  gulp . . . Red Measles!   Everybody said you could die from the Red Measles, so you got to eat more ice cream with the Red Measles than with the Three-Day Measles because that bowl of vanilla ice cream you were enjoying just might be your last.

When I had  the Red Measles, my mother wouldn’t let me watch television because they thought that watching TV when you had the Red Measles could cause blindness. Honestly!  So I listened to soap operas on the radio. It’s the only time I ever listened to soap operas broadcast over the radio.  And on a scale of one to ten enjoyment-wise, I’d give radio soap operas a measly one, frankly.

Mumps: 

Okay, mumps were the weirdest thing ever.  First of all,  there’s the name Mumps. To me it always sounded like something you’d call the grandpa you didn’t like very well.  “Oh great here comes Grandpa Mumps!  Quick hide the pie!”

But also, if you thought you looked stupid when you had the measles,  it was nothing and I mean nothing compared to the stupid you looked when you had the Mumps.

Warning:  I’m going to stick a picture in here of someone who has the Mumps.  If you’re eating, you might want to leave the room:

Girl with Mumps

Okay, I googled mumps and this came up.  I have no idea what is going on here, but whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to be going well.

I have a feeling Grandpa Mumps is behind this!

Tonsillitis:

Back in the 50’s,  9 out of 10 kids, chose tonsillitis as their “go to” stay home from school illness.  I know I did.  And so did my brother, Peter.   Peter,  however, pulled it one too many times and suffered a fate worse than staying home everyday getting to eat ice cream.  “He had to have his tonsils pulled.”  Mind you, he could have had “a procedure to have his tonsils removed”  but they didn’t sugar coat things back in the fifties — except for every morsel of food you put in your mouth.

Having your tonsils out was a little bit better than having the Red Measles though. For one thing, you got to watch TV without the worry of  going blind(unless you had a really bad surgeon) and you got to bang on a pan with a spoon if you need more ice cream because it hurt to yell “Can I have more ice cream!”

All in all, having your tonsils out wasn’t such a bad thing.  Except you never got to use it as an excuse to stay home from school again so it definitely had it’s down-side.

Unless you were lucky enough to come down with an appendicitis — but back in the 50’s we were still using our appendix as a second stomach.  We still needed our second stomachs.

After all, we had a lot of lard to digest.