Thrift Store Finds

Thrift Store Finds: Andy the Handy Anal Retentive Man

Linda Vernon Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Hello Dear Readers! I had a little extra time on my hands the other day, and I just happened to be driving by the thrift store, so I dashed in for a second and came away the proud new owner of:

Handy Andy Magazine from 1980!

Now before you go thinking that Handy Andy is one of those guys who pretends to be a Handy Man as a way of getting inside your house, scoping out the place and coming back at a more convenient time to steal all your possessions and  murder you, you would be wrong.

After carefully perusing this  Pocket-Size Do It Yourself Guide for Everyone for blood stains and having found none, I have come to the conclusion that Andy isn’t a murderer at all but simply a misunderstood Anal Retentive handy man who can get a little peevish if somebody messes with his tools.

Let’s take a look inside shall we?

Here are some 1980 anal retentive tips sent in by some 1980 Handy Andy Magazine’s anal retentive readers:

Andrew Vena Has an Anal Retentive Suggestion to save you money!

Andrew Vena suggests reusing sanding disks by cleaning them off!  It easy! You just:  1) scrape off the ridges with a knife 2) apply varnish remover 3)wait for paint to soften 4) hold the sanding disk under running water 5) remove goo with a wire brush and viola! the sanding disk will be as good as new saving you, the handyman or woman, the cost of a new sanding disk! And the best part?  Every time you reuse that sanding disk, you’ll be pocketing a cool 35 cents instead of forking it over to The Man!

Mrs. Jane Johnson Writes Poignantly about Shelf Protectors!

Who else but Mrs. Jane Johnson of Minnetonka could have thought of this ingenious  idea!  And that is to put the plastic lids of cans that came with plastic lids on the bottom of other cans that didn’t come with plastic lids so that the cans that didn’t come with plastic lids can go under the cans with . . or maybe over the cans that, uh  . . .   oh who cares, she’s probably dead anyway!

Here’s a dandy Handy Andy Anal Retentive Tip from Wilfred Beaver of Sparta Wis.!

Apparently Wilfred Beaver’s shower is on the fritz again because he has to wash his hair in a lavatory and his dog’s hair in the bathtub and vice versa.  And apparently Wilfred Beaver’s hair follicles are bailing out in record numbers every time he washes his hair in the lavatory and/or bathtub which has caused Wilfred Beaver to feel the need to dam his lavatory drain with “a wad of steel wood.”  Oh sure it sounds gross, but it’s the kind of activity that keeps Wilfred Beaver busy. And Mrs. Wilfred Beaver isn’t complaining — so why should we?

Well, Dear Readers, that’s all the anal retentive Handy Andy tips we have time for today, but check back in  tomorrow when we will be having fun explaining some of the mysterious illustrations (dont’ worry they’re not bloodstains, I’m pretty sure)  included our 1980 Handy Andy Magazine!

Until next time . . . I love you

Save Room for Schuh!

Linda Vernon Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
“Sometimes I just want to punch you!”
“What? But wwwhhhyyy???”

Hello Dear Readers!

I found this wonderful Viennese Folk Dancing LP at the thrift store for us to examine more closely.  Let’s take a little look see, shall we?

Viennese Dances “Ya!”

Here we have a collection of Viennese dance-songs which are sung by Austrian man peasants while other Austrian peasants perform intricate Viennese folk dances.

Well now!  Isn’t that a fine kettle of Neujahrsschießen!

I may not know much about the country of Austria, but that definitely doesn’t stop me from thinking I do.  Here’s my best guess about what the Viennese songs and folk dances featured on this LP might be about:

First up is the hauntingly beautiful —

Hochzeitmarsch aus Ebensee (from Tanze)

This ironic folk dance opens with the Austrian peasant, Hoch, who is wading in the marsh when he becomes stuck in the mud clear up to his eben, see?  And a beautiful peasant girl, Aus from Tanze,  grabs him — and in a series of complicated twists — manages to free his eben, see?  The act of which paralyzes Hoch for the rest of his life, even though Hoch inexplicably retains the full use of his eben, see? Which is probably where the irony comes in but nobody is really sure what’s going on so maybe not.

Next is the surprisingly poignant:

Schuhplattler (from Bauernmusi)

Austrian Peasant Mrs. Butterhorn dances exuberantly past all the young maidens in the village of Bauernmusi carrying a large plattler of schuh.  The maidens  jump and twirl for joy as Mrs. Butterhorn carries her plattler of Schuh through the village square where they all gaily sit down at the annual Neujahrsschießen Feast and everybody partakes heartily and dies shortly thereafter from food poisoning which everybody blamed on a bad batch of Schuh.  Things are pretty much downhill from there on out.  If you ever decide to go to a live performance of Schuhplattler, definitely plan to leave at the intermission.

And finally, a story that is near and dear to all our hearts:

Guggu Polka

Of all the music and dancing performed on this LP, Guggu Polka is perhaps the most well known.  We join our revelers just as Austria’s most famous seafaring explorer, Guggu Polka shimmies his way into town in celebration of his historic discovery that there is absolutely no way to get to the ocean from Austria.  His crew of 18 sailors do a fantastic kick line while dragging the would-be seafaring vessel christened The Hokey Pokey along behind them. Then the villagers put their right foot in and put their right foot out and that’s when Guggu Polka trips and dies.  It may not have a happy ending, but sometimes that’s what it’s all about.

Until next time . . . I Bauerngalopp you

“That is the lamest high five I’ve ever seen!”

Adventures in 1941 or Drunk as a Skunk Wearing War Time Trousers!

Linda Vernon Health and Beauty, Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Sometimes things just keep getting better.  I opened one of my vintage cookbooks this morning and guess what I found folded up neatly inside? A section of a newspaper from May 12, 1941, almost 60 years ago to the day!

So let’s take a look at some of the ads to see if we can discover what was on the minds of the average 1941 citizen:

Here’s an ad that will ruin your appetite:

Apparently back in 1941, people had a lot of excessive ugly hair which was not to be confused with plain ol’ ordinary ugly hair. Because in 1941, everybody’s hair was ugly, that goes without saying.  But apparently, it was only the excess ugly hair that they were worried about.

And apparently if you wanted this excessive ugliness eradicated, you had to go to a Gypsy Fortune-Teller/Seance-Conducting Madame where you could get your offending follicles removed scientifically using multiple needle electrolysis on your superfluous (and uncalled for!) hair.

And speaking of ugly hair, here’s an ad for making it look even worse:

Ah! Back in 1941, nothing gave hair that natural healthy glow like Bay Rum, Barbo Compound, and half a pint of water.

The ad says to try the recipe today and see how much younger you will look — assuming you fore go applying it to your hair and just chug it!

And then there’s the enigma of Wartime Trousers:

Heh? This one is a little tricky to figure out. Let’s see . . .  there’s a war going on . . . so therefore men’s vests don’t match their pants anymore . . .. so they have to send their vests to the Pants Matching Co. . . so they can make a vest to match their pants which are now called “Wartime Trousers”.

And even though the gentleman in the ad has an abnormally large head, he apparently doesn’t have an abnormally large brain — because if he did, why has he taken off his “War Trousers” when he’s suppose to be sending The Pants Matching Co. his vest?

Well anyway, we are going to have to chalk it all up to “Wartime Trouser Secrets of World War II and move on to:

You People Who Are Sick

Well thank goodness there was at least one Dr. Shane D.C. practicing medicine without a license back in 1941!  And not only did this guy somehow get a hold of an X-ray machine, he’s going to diagnose you without asking you a single question!  Talk about saving time!

Of course it’s going to cost you one, hard-earned dollar, so you might not want to do it.  But wait . . . .what if he throws in a Oscillotonometer  heart examination and what if he capitalized HEART EXAMINATION in the newspaper ad?  Would it be worth your hard-earned dollar then?

Still no?  But  what if you suffered from something on the list of symptoms like Deafness or Lumbago or, heaven forbid,  Piles?  What then?

You mean to say you would have actually walked around town in 1941 wearing an ill-matching Wartime Trouser/vest combination with your ugly excessive, hair sticking out everywhere  –drunk as a skunk from ingesting the Barbo hair dye recipe — with extra rum?

OK fine go ahead . . .but I’m telling Madame Stiver on you, so watch out!

Until next time  . . . I love you

How to Drink a Castor Oil Sandwich in 1949

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine, Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , ,

I found this little 1949 booklet at the thrift store the other day.

Apparently, back in 1949, before Facebook was invented, people had to make friends with whomever (or whatever) they could scrape up.

Alright fine, but how hard up does a person have to be to count Pure Bicarbonate of Soda as one of their friends?

I’m talking to you people of 1949! What were you thinking making Bicarbonate of Soda your friend?  Hello?  . . . ok, fine don’t answer me.

I’ll make something up and say it’s true. That’s what you get for ignoring me!

Let’s start by pretending we live in 1949.  What else were you doing today anyway. (I mean besides pretending to be working).

As you know, the first thing to do when pretending anything is to rush over to Google and start asking a lot of unnecessary questions:

What was the cost of a first class stamp in 1949?   

Google says: $.03


Who was the President of the United States in 1949?

Google says: “Harry S. Truman”


Why did Newfoundland join the Canada Confederation?   

Google says: “You’re joking right?”

How do you write 1949 in Roman Numerals?  

Google says: “Get outta here kid, ya bother me.”

Well apparently Google got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. So let’s try to conjure up 1949 by using this picture from 1951 that I found in my baby book and subtracting 2 years from it in our minds.

Checking to see if limbs are operable
Me and Mom (I'm on the right)

As you can see from this picture of me and Mom, 1949 was rather bleak, stark and dark. On the upside, they did have doilies (one) and lamps (one) and a window (one).

And even though you don’t see any “friends” in this picture, I’ll bet you anything if you were to go into the kitchen, you would have found Mom’s besty, Pure Bicarbonate of Soda, relaxing on the kitchen shelf, at the ready for Mom should she suddenly need Dear ol’ Carby.

OK, now that our minds are firmly ensconced in 1949, let’s just pretend something came up, and we are going to need our new BFF, Dear ol’ Carby, to come to the rescue.

Let’s say we were in need of . . . oh I don’t know maybe a . . . CASTER OIL SANDWICH?

Apparently back in 1949, there was some weirdness going on. First, that a Caster Oil Sandwich was actually on any menu at all, and second, that  it was a sandwich  you were suppose to :“Drink while effervescing.” 

I don’t know about you, but I rarely effervesce when I drink sandwiches . . . but that’s just me.

What’s say we toddle back  over to Google, shall we?  And let’s ask Google why anybody would want to drink a Caster oil Sandwich:

Under what circumstances would someone drink a Caster oil Sandwich?

Google says: “Get outta here kid, you bother me!”

Fine be that way!

If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen with Dear ol’ Carby preparing a Caster oil Sandwich for our new besty, Goog.

Eww!
Until next time . . . I love you

Ain’t Monday Smarvelous!

Linda Vernon Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

It’s Monday once again. (I’m starting to sense a pattern here.) I thought it might be nice to start the week out with some happy peppy people. And I just happened to have a few stashed away in the corner waiting for a time such as this to spring them on you. And so, fresh from their last appearance at the Thrift store may I present:

Happy Peppy People Who Are A Little Bit Too Happy and Too Peppy for Their Own Good.

What are these Happy Peppy People doing?

They are being the spokes models for the Ray Coniff Orchestra with every fiber of their being.

Isn’t it Smarvelous?  The back cover tries to explain what’s going on with this inexplicable explanation:

‘S Connif too, with a companion volume, although in no sense a sequel to his bestselling “Wonderful! This time the music is moodier, and the arrangements a little more subtle . . .

Subtle, yes well . . . I mean what could be more subtle than fully clothed pole dancers? Or maybe they’re fully clothed people hugging gigantic pencils? Either way, it’s subtle alright. In fact, it’s Subtle Marvelous or Smarvelous, if you will.

Oh look!  These adorably diminutive Happy Peppy People who have just been run out of town on a rail are the New Christy Minstrels!  Not to be confused with the Old Christy Minstrels who the New Christie Minstrels bound and gagged and hid in the backstage closet.

Of course, the New Christy Minstrels are now, themselves, the Old Christy Minstrels.  Not to worry, scientists knew this was going to happen and have been working ‘round the clock since 1972 to prepare the new ones.

They are hoping to have The New Christy-Clone Minstrels ready in time for Christmas.

Here’s some Happy Peppy People who named themselves Serendipity.

This is a group of fun-loving singers who are awaiting their chance to bind and gag the New Christie Minstrels and stash them in the closet along with the Old Christy Minstrels so they can replace them both as the New Most-Improved Christy Minstrels.  Talk about Serendipity!

And finally here’s a Happy Peppy Person who is so happy and so peppy he is literally having — and I quote:  “The Time of My Life!”

The first sentence on the back cover explains:

“John Davidson is a six-foot, blue-eyed young baritone who sings with a unique combination of warmth and power . . .”

It’s a good thing he sings with power too because somebody seems to have stolen his microphone . . . shhhh . . . don’t tell him though, there’s no reason to ruin the time of his life.

Until next time . . . I love you

Sometimes People In 1967 Didn’t Know About Italy and Stuff

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine, Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

 Meet Ruth Conrad Bateman. There are a couple of things you should know about Ruth. Ruth is a Professional Home Economist, Ruth has a “genuine feeling” for food, and Ruth doesn’t take any guff.

Now, Ruth has always been a restless soul and back in 1967, before the invention of transportation, Ruth apparently stumbled upon a little known country name Italy where they eat “Italy” food and stuff.

That’s when Ruth got a wonderful, very good idea. She would compile a booklet with “instructions” on how to make “Italy” food. And here it is:

Now look closely at this cover. There’s wine, scallops and overly large wooden utensils that Italy people are so fond of cooking with. If that doesn’t smack of Italy — Ruth Conrad Bateman doesn’t know what does.

Also note that Ruth has included valuable coupons inside. That adorable, irrepressible Ruth! Let’s see what gives with that:

See you learn something every day! Who knew “Prune Shine” was Italian? Prune Shine is the natural way to stay regular, day after day! And when viewed in a prudential light, this could be considered a good thing.

However, if it turns out not to be a good thing due to having to urgently leave the room every ten minutes, Ruth has thoughtfully included a coupon to make you feel better about the situation:

 Because Ruth knew that back in 1967, there really wasn’t much a person wasn’t willing to put up with for a nickel.

It’s also interesting to note that the makers of Sunsweet Prune Juice felt it necessary to use six adjectives to get you to drink it. Just a fun fact!

Now on to the Italy food! Or as Ruth puts it, “Lookee what I made!”

Here’s where Ruth really gets into the nuts and bolts of Italian food! Except instead of using nuts and bolts, Ruth is using jumbo shrimp. For you see, Ruth wanted an opportunity to tell us that jumbo shrimp is a delicacy that is available in many fine Italian restaurants which serve Italy food.

But Ruth doesn’t want us to feel embarrassed if we’ve never heard of jumbo shrimp before because they were only recently discovered by Ruth Conrad Bateman, herself, when she accidentally fell overboard while sailing in the Adriatic and surfaced with jumbo shrimp stuck in her hair net! So you see it’s nothing to feel unsophisticated about.

And finally, what Italian Cookbook would be complete without this helpful hint fresh from the lips of the Italy Food Diva, herself, Ruth Conrad Bateman:

And if that little treasure of wisdom doesn’t save you at least a nickel, Ruth Conrad Bateman will eat her hair net, jumbo shrimp and all!

Until next time . . . I love you

Shhh . . . Stop Interrupting and Listen to the Warm!

Linda Vernon Baby Eating and Whatnot, The Daily Routine, Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Foraging around the falderal at my local thrift store,  (I am starting to feel like they stock it just for me!) I found this wonderful gem:

“Listen to the Warm”  Written and performed by Rod McKuen

On the back of the album is his historic poem, A Cat Name Sloopy — in three parts. It’s a poem Rod Mckuen penned during an unprecedented burst of love for his cat, Sloopy.  And a poem, I might add, that catapulted Rod McKuen to superstar poetic status back in the halcyon days of unflinchingly serious, popular poetry.

Here are some excerpts from that historic poem with a few observations of my own.

“For a while the only earth that Sloopy knew was in her sandbox”

Just a quick heads up, Rod, kitty litter works better.

Every night she’d sit in the window among the avocado plants waiting for me to come home (my arms full of canned liver and love)

Excuse me . . .Rob?  . . . you dropped a whole bunch of love coming up the stairs. (By the way, I hope you didn’t buy avocados, the grove in the window sill is finally producing!)

We talked into the night then, contented but missing something

Uh . . . could it have been Sloopy’s side of the conversation?

She the earth she never knew,  and me the hills I ran while growing bent

Oh that . . . well, I hear calcium can help that.

Sloopy should have been a cowboy’s cat with prairies to run not linoleum

Good call Rod!  And that’s why linoleum should be banned once and for all!

I never told her, but in my mind, I was a midnight cowboy even then. Riding my imaginary horse down Forty-second Street . . .

What?  You love doing that?  Me too! OMG!

Going off with strangers to live an hour-long cowboy’s life but always coming home to Sloopy, who loved me best.

Wait. . . what? . . . hold the phone . . . Rod . . . Rod!  No more beer for you.  Why don’t you go to bed now and see if you can’t sleep it off.  What’s  that?  You can’t sleep because Sloopy keeps slapping her paws walking around on the linoleum?  Well, just listen to the warm . . Rod  . . .that’s right . . .  listen to the warm . . . .

Meanwhile, I’ll see if I can get a call into the president so he can do something about the linoleum.  And tomorrow you can start working on your next album.  What are you going to call it?  What’s that, Rod?  You’re going to call it, Smell the Humidity? 

I love it!

Until next time . . . I love you

How to be a Professional Gluey Paste Salesman in Ten (or maybe eleven) Easy Steps!

Linda Vernon Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , ,

Hello Dear Readers.  As you may remember earlier this week, we were discussing some ads that appeared in an 81-year-old Saturday Evening Post such as this one for Gluey Paste:

I am happy to report, that I have done some extensive research this week into the exciting, fast-paced Gluey Paste industry and needless to say did not come up empty handed.

Have you often dreamed of living the glamorous life of a Gluey Paste Professional Salesman or woman but cried yourself to sleep each night thinking it would be impossible?

Well, Dear Reader, you can now turn those tears of sorrow into tears of joy in ten (or maybe eleven) easy steps!

How to Be A Successful Gluey Paste Salesman in Ten (or maybe eleven) Easy Steps!

Step One:

As a  Gluey Paste Professional Salesman, you will begin any successful sales call by shaking the hand of the potential Gluey Paste customer and greet him by saying, “How do you do, Mr. Smith.”

Step Two

The salutation should be immediately followed by noticing a smudge on Mr. Smith’s elbow and offering to wipe it off — the act of which will quickly bond Mr. Smith to you, the Professional Gluey Paste Salesman.

Step Three:

Uh oh.  It looks like you, as the Professional Gluey Paste Salesman, might have inadvertently bonded yourself to Mr. Smith literally.

Do not be alarmed as this happens more often than not. However, it is of the utmost importance that you, as the Professional Gluey Paste Salesmen, remain calm and under no circumstances let Mr. Smith know what has just transpired.

Step Four

Assuming a nonchalant air, casually turn around so that you and potential customer, Mr. Smith, are facing in the same direction.

This might be a good time to introduce an interesting topic of conversation, such as: “How ’bout them Yankees?”  A question that will keep Mr. Smith so busy thinking, he’ll undoubtedly fail to notice that he  is glued to you, the Professional Gluey Paste Salesman.

Step Five

Next, you must inch Mr. Smith in the direction of the washroom with the eventual outcome of washing the glue off each of you.

However, in order to get Mr. Smith to cooperate fully without being the wiser,  you simply explain that as the Professional Gluey Paste Salesman, you are very interested in the equipment in the washroom to see if it correlates with the amount of glue a potential customer such as Mr. Smith is likely to purchase.

Step Six

Should you, as the Gluey Paste Professional Salesman, suddenly trip and land in the manner pictured above, calmly explain to Mr. Smith that you are practicing your moves for an audition later in the afternoon with the Flying Wallenda’s.

Mr. Smith will not only understand-; he’s very likely to be impressed with your well-rounded personality.

Step Seven

This is the most precarious time in any successful sales call for both you, the Professional Gluey Paste Salesman, and your potential customer, Mr. Smith.

While you are struggling to get things “back on track”, it is recommended that you  belt out a rousing rendition of Camp Town Racers since it has been scientifically proven that the singing of Camp Town Racer’s puts people in the mood to buy glue.

Step Eight

Once you have managed to unstick your hand from Mr. Smith’s elbow, next stick your hand onto Mr. Smith’s knee.

Step Nine

Now, of course, it is just a matter of “walking” Mr. Smith over to a chair so that he can sit down and sign the purchase agreement for upwards of 14 cases of Gluey Paste!

Step Ten

Be careful here because this is often the critical moment in which Mr. Smith is likely to get cold feet causing you to have wasted the entire morning without getting any sales commission.  Therefore you must be prepared to put some serious sales pressure on Mr. Smith.

Step Eleven: 

( Please note this step is only to be used should steps one through ten fail to produce a sale.)

If Mr. Smith still refuses to “come around” after utilizing steps one through ten, pull out the stops by pulling out your Gluey Paste Company issued Smith and Wesson revovlver.

Not only will Mr. Smith’s status be instantly upgraded from potential customer to loyal customer, you’ll be well on your way to experiencing the exciting lifestyle of a world-class Gluey Paste Professional Salesman!

Until next time . . . I love you

Don’t Know What to Eat? I Know, Let’s Ask the Government!

Linda Vernon Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , ,

I don’t know about you, but often times I’ll go to my refrigerator and open the door and stand there for days on end trying to decide what to eat.

Not only does this kind of thing waste valuable electricity, it also wastes valuable time that could be better spent checking weather.com for days on end to see if it’s warm enough to go outside.

Well, I’m happy to report, Dear Reader, all this has changed! Changed because of this 1942 American Red Cross Food and Nutrition booklet I chanced upon at the thrift store!

Let’s now turn to any page at random, shall we?

This looks like an interesting page. Let’s take a closer look.

Let’s call this “Man–Moderately Active,” Herbert.  As you can see, Herbert isn’t too happy with his job down at the factory. Well, who can blame him? Drilling holes in a 2×4 for no apparent reason all the live-long day tends to suck the joy out of Herbert’s me time.

Herbert’s only hope for happiness today or any day is that his wife will be cooking him a nutritional supper planned by the American Red Cross in conjunction with the U.S. Department of Agriculture to insure that Herbert gets a well-balanced meal so that he can live on indefinitely to perform his duties down at the 2×4 hole punching factory!

This Housewife is Herbert’s wife, Herberta. As you can see, she is wiping out a bowl which is her primary duty as Herbert’s wife. Uh Oh! Herberta doesn’t look like she’s planning a supper for her husband that would be deemed appropriate by either the Red Cross OR U.S. Department of Agriculture — let alone in conjunction with!

It isn’t because Herberta hasn’t read . . . no make that memorized The Red Cross Food and Nutrition booklet she was issued at birth back in 1922, it’s just that Herberta will never get this bowl wiped out if she doesn’t keep wiping and wiping and wiping and wiping . . . Plus she really doesn’t give a rip.

This boy–12 is Herbert and Herberta’s son Herbie Jr. As you can see, even though Herbie Jr. is only 12 that doesn’t keep him from looking, acting and dressing like he’s 47.

But just because Herbie Jr. always dresses age inappropriately in a white-dress shirt, tie, sweater vest, sports jacket and — I’m just guessing here — spats, Dear Reader, doesn’t mean that Herbie Jr. is over-compensating for the fact that his parents are losers. He just likes to dress up! God bless his Herbie Jr. soul!

The Chart that DoEsn’t Explain Everything!

This chart represents what the American Red Cross in conjunction with the US Department of Agriculture must insist that Herbert eat if he is to properly punch holes in a 2×4.  The columns in this chart represent “shares.”

As you can see, for example,  if Herbert shares his Vitamin B1 with 20 people and his Calcium with 37 people, he’ll  soon be the picture of health and the apple of the collective eye of the American Red Cross, I’d be willing to bet.

Of course, this means his wife, Herberta, is going to have to cook for upwards of 60 dinner guests every night but a small price to pay for the betterment of  the United States of America’s 2 x 4 hole punching industry.

Ok, but something tells me Herberta ain’t  gonna like it.

Until next time . . . I love you

Aliens Secretly Study Humanity Under the Guise of a 1960’s Sandwich Cookbook.

Linda Vernon Aliens, Baby Eating and Whatnot, Edible Tales, Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Innocent cookbook or alien agenda?

I know it’s hard to believe, but after carefully examining the above peculiarly worded cookbook from the 1960’s — it quickly became apparent to me that this is not a cookbook at all, but, in actuality, is a scientific study of the human race conducted by aliens from the planet Zorin! 

Shall we turn to the first page? 

Sandwiches for the Small Fry

As you can see by this heading, the aliens are going to great pains to make us believe that they have full command of English language idioms.  Apparently they think these children are idioms.  Apparently they think the entire human race are idioms!

The aliens go on to explain to their fellow Zorinians that sandwiches in the small fry’s  “carried lunch”  should be “made of bread” and that fruit should be eaten out of  the small fry’s “hands” and that “milk should be sent from home in a small vacuum bottle”. 

The aliens stressed that Zorinians should not confuse  “Small Frys”  with “small order of fries” even though both are equally delicious.

Let us move on (quickly!):

 Taste Tempters for Teens

After much concentrated  study, the aliens have ascertained that this is a fair representation of  the typical eating behavior of the human “teen”.  And they go on to state that “teen-agers are a mystery”  — adding that “boy or girl their appetites are immense” even “staggering.”   The report emphasizes that  human “teenagers” have a “bottomless appetite” and an “endless thirst.”  Information that probably raised a Zorinian eyebrow or two (or seven).

The aliens were careful not to get too close.

Next the aliens attempt to enlighten Zorinians about the mystifying behavior of:

Picnic Packables:

As you can see from this heading, when  it comes to alliteration, the aliens are definitely on-board the human-language train!  Even going so far as to use the word, “packables”.  Well they aren’t billions of years more advanced than us for nothin’!

At first, the aliens were in total disarray as to what the father figure pictured above was doing.  But after intensified study,  the aliens came to the conclusion that this particular human being’s lower appendages had collapsed by a whopping fifty percent (perhaps from carting around Picnic Packables?) and when that happens, human beings must squeeze a circular object with their “hands” for prolonged periods of time in order to restore proper appendage positioning.

The aliens got a good laugh out of this one!

Well that’s all we have time for today, Dear Reader, but rest assured there are plenty more Secret Studies by Zorinians about the Human Race hiding within the pages of 1960 cookbooks and I plan to expose every single one of them or be abducted trying!

That is my pledge to you.

Until next time . . . I love you

Thrift Store Find: Nuclear Cheese!

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine, Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , ,

I was wandering around my local thrift store on the prowl for the weird, the crazy or the strange — keeping my eyes peeled for the unusual, when guess what I found!

An LP featuring the ominously cheerful Guy Mitchell! That’s what! 

A guy in Love Guy Mitchell Glenn Osser and his orchestra

The first line of the album blurb reads:

This charming collection of ballads by Guy Mitchel has a dual theme; all songs are concerned with romance, and all of them deal in a sense with nature and the outdoors!

I don’t know . . .  judging from the piercingly maniacal gaze of Guy’s baby hazels, I’d have to say Guy is a guy you don’t want to get involved with.  And when I say get involved with I mean accidentally bump into while waiting in line at Target because before you can completely utter the phrase “excuse me” — Guy will have fallen deeply, passionately and hopelessly in Stalker Love.  

And just when I was thinking, thrift store shopping just doesn’t get any better look what I found right underneath Guy!

Sing with the Four Roses Society

The Four Roses Society! A society consisting of eight of  cheesiest human beings to have ever so much as hummed.

If you’ll notice, all the men are drinking straight shots of whiskey, except for one man who is no doubt holding two bottles of Jack Daniels behind his back. (We can only hope.)

One of the songs listed on the album is “Home on the Range”  I like to think that’s what they were singing when this picture was taken.  Which would explain all the howling by the dog, them and you, the listener.

And finally, Dear Readers, just when I was thinking life, itself, doesn’t get any better  I found this!

Pasar Dalam

Pasar Dalam!  Whatever or whoever they may be!

The blurb on the album cover begins:

Wilt u lets welen over de background van deze plaat, wat betreft repetities enz ja . . .

I’ll try to translate this for you as best I can under the circumstances of me not knowing how to speak whatever language this is.  I believe it says:

Will you let us welen over the background of the van please? What? Why are you bereft about that? I’m tired of repeating myself, enz ja . . .

However riveting the above passage, this is not the reason it caught my eye.  I actually noticed the way the guy in the front row is holding up the lady in yellow —  I like to think her name is enz ja . . .

Until next time . . . I love you

Thrift Store Find: A Guy Named Ted’s 1991 Yearbook!

Linda Vernon Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

We all remember the somewhat-iffy glory days of  our semi-beloved junior high school!   

Some of us adored it and some of us hated it. Apparently, Ted, whose yearbook I found on the shelves of my local thrift store, fits into the latter catagory. 

So pull your hair into a side pony tail and twist your hat backwards and let’s take a little trip to Junior High 1991 courtesy of Ted:

Now here’s a student who, even though he tried valiantly NOT to listen during Language Arts class, accidentally absorbed a few nuggets of wisdom.

Not only do I give him kudos for remembering two of the eight parts of speech, but he even threw in “vowel” as well as the rarest type of letter in the alphabet, “the consant.”

I’m also giving him extra points for mentioning the  “prep prase”  which I’m guessing is any prepositional phrase that is complimentary.

Apparently this same kid was also in Ted’s History class.

Now here’s a category they didn’t have when I was in Junior High:

Not to be confused with:

And of course, what yearbook would be complete without fun photo doctoring:

Everybody had a Jr. High math teacher named Mr. Flem (or should have):

And finally:

The eternally effervescent P.E. teacher, Mrs. Miller, leaves Ted with these parting words:

“Ted, you’ve got  a great personality.  Keep things in the right perspective OK?

Ted!  You gotta love him, don’t you?

Until next time . . . I love you

1937 Smart Party Talk

Linda Vernon The Daily Routine, Thrift Store Finds , , , , , , , , ,

I found this picture in a 1937 cookbook which was just begging for some dialogue using slang from the 30’s.

picture of a party from 1937

Hey this party’s ring-a-ding-ding, don’t you think so, dollface?

It’s alright I suppose.

Suppose I say you’re a looker with a swell pair of get-away-sticks.

Suppose I say that’s the smoothest line of monkey talk I’ve heard all evening.

Suppose I say we blow this wingding and stop at a speako for a bottle of beer.

Suppose I say you’ve had one too many snoutfuls if you think I’d fall for a chisel like that.

Suppose I say let’s stop by my place, I’ll peel off this tuxedo, and we’ll roll a few lines at the bowling alley.

Suppose I say where did you learn to sweet talk,  from a correspondence course?

Suppose I say I wonder if you’re giving me the kibosh?

Suppose I say I’ll let you know after I finish this glass of giggle.

Suppose I say I’m going to park a honey cooler on those lips 0f yours?

Suppose I say try it and I’ll ram this gobble-pipe up your schnozzle!

Suppose I say remind me never to get dizzy with a dame who is holding a saxophone.

Suppose I say that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all  night.  Hey, I had you pegged all wrong, maybe you’re not a flopperoo after all.

Hey listen, muffin, let’s get another glass of rot gut, put on a keen platter and jolly up!

Murder! Now you’re talkin’ mister!

Breakfast Confabulation of 1937

Linda Vernon Thrift Store Finds , , , , , ,

I got this picture out of a 1937 cookbook that I found at my local thrift store.  So I worte a little story about it using 1930’s slang.  Hope you enjoy it.

Watching you eat is Aces! You’re cute as a bug’s ear . . .

Ha ha! Well, I certainly didn’t get flimflammed when I married a tomato like you! But you’re plate’s empty . . . what gives?

Oh I’ll eat later with the dog.  I’m just content to sit here and smile at you while you eat a hearty breakfast consisting of breakfast dishes men like — that I thought up using my wifely wisdom.

That’s all wet.  Tomorrow I want you to eat your breakfast at the breakfast table see? You’re a doll even if you are always bumping your gums.

What are you trying to say?  That you made a brodie marrying me?

Well you gotta admit, you’re kind of a crumb.

Well!  I should have know better than to marry a cinder dick.

Listen broad, being employed as  railroad detective is better than squat, isn’t it?

OK, OK, don’t blow your wig, I’m not sore.

You and me both, kitten.

I know! Why don’t I get on the blower and make reservations at the speakeasy, and we’ll knock back a couple slugs of snazzy hooch.

You shread it, wheat! You know something?

What?

When I look into those baby-blue pies of yours I can’t help thinking what a swell dame you are.

Thanks a heap, I’m sure.