When The Ship Hits The Sand

Continuing on with my adventure in vacation land, one unexpected and seriously interesting stop was to the U.S.S. North Carolina Battleship, a place you'd probably assume was as boring as watching a bowl of dead Sea Monkeys, but in fact was pretty emotionally moving. The ship is massive and you look literally like an ant, dwarfed by the sheer height of this thing. I remember standing on the deck, looking around in amazement, letting it sink in that this was once an actual working ship with thousands of crewmen aboard during WW11, cruising the Pacific and shooting down buttloads of Japanese planes made me misty. And I don't cry. I would rust. The conditions the men have to live and work in, these small, claustrophobic spaces and boiling hot engine rooms is nothing short of heroic. Visiting the battleship was the farthest thing from boring, in fact, we only had an hour to sprint through all the levels of this behemoth (or else we'd miss our plane home) and really, I could have spent hours more exploring it and wondering what ever happened to the guys who once called that ship "home".



Apparently the battleship is haunted, but I didn't capture a single ghost in my pictures, nor did I hear a voice from beyond the grave calling "Kiiiimmm... Avast, ye wench! Batten down the hatches and ahoy, matey! Oooooo....". (Apparently Navy men of the 40's speak like pirates. It's a little known fact.) I was bummed for the lack of ghostery. I was also annoyed that neither Charo nor Tony Orlando showed up on the lido deck to do their song-and-dance disco numbers and that Isaac never did bring me that Mai Tai I ordered.

One kicky little detail of the USS North Carolina was the black and white pictures of men aboard the ship during it's heyday, set up throughout different sections of the ship, like the various parts of the kitchen and control room. Standing in front of a picture of a guy standing in the same spot you're standing in, only 60 earlier was phenomenal. My sister and I referred to the guys in the pictures as "The Hotties". They just don't make 'em like that anymore.

Onward to pictures! Some are not the best quality and stupid Blogger makes you shrink your pictures small, so you'll just have to deal with it.





I was standing where the guys made bread. Guys! Making bread! On a ship! Hot guys! I can't take it.



Guys stirring soup. Soup! (Ok, Ok, I'll stop.)



This is a bulk potato peeler, chafes the skin off them and shoots them out. Word was that sometimes the guys would slack and not watch the potatoes (you know how distracting a Betty Grable poster is), and the taters came out the size of marbles and then they'd get in trouble. Oh those wacky sailors.



Something technical that did stuff.



This was the Master at Arms' room and it was behind locked glass, for reasons I don't know. I guess he didn't like people touching his stuff.



One of the medical rooms, which are always creepy, so I hightailed it outta there.

We ended up in the bowels of the ship, way down below. I'm sure there's some sort of actual boat-y name for it, of which I don't know. It gets a little panicky when you know you're that far from the surface of the ship and you have to climb 4 billion stairs to back up. I don't know how the hell those guys did it everyday, let alone when under attack. That's too much like exercise for my taste, thankyouverymuch.



This is where Captain Stubing drove the boat. I love the aqua and deep red color combo, though I'm sure the guys then didn't appreciate it. Men!



The view from the portholes in the captains' driving room, looking out over the shooter dealies. Yeah, I don't know what those things are called either. But I do know that Cher sat on some like it in her "If I Could Turn Back Time" video.



A cute, little old man told me that the ship's bell is important, but I didn't have the chance to find out why. So here's the bell. It's important.


"When The Ship Hits The Sand" by Little Jimmie Dickens

Hey, Big Spender

There's the most boring train wreck of a book out, called "Hollywood Pinups" ($39.95, y'all) by Timothy White. Here's a twist: it's a book with pictures of Hollywood celebs posing all old-timey and retro-y. I bet you never woulda guessed that. Yeah well, that idea is actually smashing and I was so psyched when I first heard about this book coming out, that Hollywood was finally going back to it's roots, as it were. Timothy White was inspired by the the artwork of Vargas' pinups and the whole rockabilly/40's-50's/old Hollywood glamour thang. Like that hasn't been done before. Can you say "Dita"? Or "Bernie Dexter"? Or any of of the other generic 4 kajillion wanna-be's out there who are also "inspired" by the 40's and 50's? *Yawn*. How underwhelming.

The inspiration. How novel:




Turns out, it's less spank-worthy and more snooze-inducing. While I do appreciate the effort (it's not ALL tragic), and 100% of the proceeds go to fight global poverty, or whatever. But it's like I always never say: "The road to hell is paved with good intentions". And this book could have rocked our faces off. There are Olsen Twins involved, people. Freaking OLSEN TWINS!! They're about as sexy as a half-naked Bea Arthur.

Maybe I'm just in a super crabby mood today. Am I being too critical? Too harsh, for no good reason? You tell me. Behold the "meh"-ness of it all:

Tea Leoni (with hair that I would kill for, if I was ballsier), doing an apparent Marilyn-esque deal:



You will never guess who this is. This pic doesn't do justice to the chick in question...I'll give you a minute to ponder...Or stare at her butt crack, whatever, pervs...



...Give up? Here's a hint: she usually looks like a carbon copy of her mom. And likes dirty hippies. Still don't know? It's Kate Hudson. (!) Seriously.


Ok, Susan Sarandon looks pretty fantastic for a 60-something. You go, girl. Of course, I'd look like a Grade A side of beef too, if I had a hairstylist. And makeup person. And wardrober. And photoshopper. But still, I'd look great too.



And last but not least, my little dumplings, is probably the worst Bettie Page impression ever to have burned my retinas:

Galaxy 500

Don't you hate it when the last song you heard on the radio gets stuck in your head for days? When I came home yesterday afternoon the last song I heard was (sigh) "Where Have All the Cowboys Gone" by Paula Whoeverthehell. And now it WON'T GET OUT OF MY HEAD. Let me explain, lest you all think I'm some kind of granola-eating, fuzzy-legged, "nature is people too!" kind of wackadoo: We drive old cars. They have AM radio only. You know what you pick up on AM radio? Local college stations, Sports Talk and the news. Sometimes college radio can be very excellent, but on this fateful day, it was All Muff Rock, All Day~ imagine any day's lineup at the Lillith Fair. I'd probably have self-induced heart failure due to Extreme Annoyance at that clamfest. Not that I have anything wrong with people who dig that scene, but if I'm gonna listen to chick rock, then it's gonna be Joan Jett. Or Barbie and The Rockers. I'd rather saw off my right arm with a dull spork than listen to Sad Indie Girl That No One Understands With An Acoustic Guitar.

So the cowboy song that's still in my head is making me suicidal at this point and I start to question the lyrics and want to bitch slap the girl in the song, whining about her life of laundry and birthing babies and all I want to say is SUCK IT UP BUTTERCUP. Don't blame your man because you got knocked up. No wonder your man spends every night at the bar~ you made him sell the '56 Chevy. I'd leave your ass too. The moral of this story: If your life sucks, change it. And don't live in the rural midwest, because that's where all of these Tales Of Housewife Horrors seem to happen. What's up with THAT, Kansas?

Quit waiting for your own cowboy because he ain't coming, darlin'. Be your OWN cowboy. Just do it well-dressed. And with shaved legs. Leave the acoustic guitar at home and no one gets hurt.

Life gets instantly better when wearing vintage western wear. Check out this ridiculously awesome 40's gabardine skirt from liberty_hill_collectibles. She's also selling a matching pair of 40's gab PANTS which are GREAT. They receive the Fast Eddie's seal of approval. Which means nothing.



Always with the gingham. FanTAStic 70's embroidered western snaptastic shirt from Jamere on Etsy. And if you're an angry chick type, what could be more ironic than having giant cocks on your shirt?

Dang Me

It's no secret how much of a huge dork for pop culture I am, right? If you don't know, then guess what? I'm a huge dork for pop culture, with extra love for the classic TV shows I grew up on. Smite me down Donny and Marie, but I AM a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll, crazy cuckoo for hillbilly culture~ wait, can you even CALL it "hillbilly culture"? Is that not PC? What can I call it? Aha! "Southern Culture" (on the skids, hardee har har). Well whatever. Country style fashion and music from the 40's, 50's and early 60's is just great, because there's never enough gingham or Benny Joy in the world. Hell, even Johnny Cash was in a couple of those really bad (read: awesome) 50's rock and roll movies, get a load of THAT.

So why is it that I LOATHE the hillbilly-esque TV shows from the 50's and 60's? Should I not love them, by all methods of deductive reasoning? They generally had good clothes in these shows so I should be loving it. But no. I do not. What is my problem? I'd rather stick my hand in a bag of razors and vinegar than suffer through the hijinks of those crazy kids down in Mayberry. Andy Griffith, you're too good to be a cop and your kid is annoying as hell. I said GOOD DAY TO YOU SIR.


Green Acres. Good clothes, love Ms. Gabor, hate the show. Plus, "Hooterville", really?!




Beverly Hillbillies. Good clothes, a hot piece of ass named Jethro, hate the show.



Petticoat Junction. Good clothes...Ok you get it by now, hate the show. Plus, is it not unsanitary to be bathing in the town's water tower?

"Sheriff, why does this here water taste funny"?
"Hmm....seems mighty fine by me. Tastes like Betty Jo".

Ahahahahaha....oh wait...Eeeewwww....

But give me a Dukes Of Hazzard marathon and we're ON, bitches. Even though it was the 70's, I can appreciate the awesome factor of the fashion. Great cast and freaking fantastic theme song. I had it as a ringtone during my period of of loving wacky ringtones, try to stop my and my zany antics, a long time ago until every meat head frat boy started using it as theirs, after seeing the Dukes movie- the one where Jessica Simpson went and skanked up the Daisy Duke part. Who knew it was even POSSIBLE to skank up that role, but she did, what with her huge rack and superb acting skills. I got to see the General Lee, or at least one of the 72 million General Lees out there, when I went to Tennessee a couple years ago. Hell, I even TOUCHED that bitch even though there was no touchy-touchy allowed. I thought "What would Luke do?" and the answer was as clear as moonshine. I'm bad ASS, am I not?

The thing about Tennessee is that it is Elvis-themed EVERYTHING, which is pretty much fine by me. Hell, if I was Tennessee I'd be pimping out Elvis all over the place too. But I have to question the truth behind every BBQ shack on the block advertising that Elvis ate there, Elvis' favorite fried pickles were sold there or Elvis picked his nose while driving past there. Whatever Tennessee, you still have mad street cred in my book and I'm just jealous. I'm from Pennsylvania and what can I pimp out? Bill Cosby? Neat. Sorry, but Fat Albert doesn't quite compare to the King, now does it?

Join me in the love of country-fried vintage. Fast Eddie's Retro Rags will dress you like your favorite hillbilly character.

You can't get more rock and roll meets country than this vintage 50's cotton JD blouse with gingham panel:


Or this vintage 50's gingham taffeta total hot rod cutie of a dress with rhinestone buttons:


Guys, you can do it too (I said "do it".) How about a vintage 40's Mohawk Sportswear cold rayon loop collar shirt with a picnic tablecloth print~ and it's new old stock to boot:


Or a vintage 50's orange gingham panel loop collar shirt:

Hey, Bartender

Did you ever have one of those wickedly down in the dumps kind of days/weekends/millenniums, the kind where you're just plain old indifferent and blue, for no particular reason, just *because"? No? Well I'm glad to hear the Prozac is working for you. For me, sometimes the only thing that works is putting on old jazz records~ and I don't mean that in a "get off my lawn and turn down your new fangled Hall and Oats jazz records!" kind of way, but in a for real jazz records kind of way.

Nothing makes me feel as justified for being pissed off and sad and angry all at once than by listening to a scratchy, poor quality record of Big Bill Broonzy or Big Maceo... or ANY old timey blues singer from the 30's and 40's with the name "Big" in it for that matter. Sitting on my porch with a High Life with records playing in the background and pretending in my head that I'm a downtrodden soul in the bayou can be therapeutic when you've got the blues, because after listening to these guys wailing their hearts out, you realise life doesn't suck quite as much as you think it did. After all, did your man leave you after taking your dog, your furniture, the last bottle of beer and took off with your best friend Ida and all he left you were your 7 kids, a half a package of crackers and a packet of ketchup? He did? Man, what kind of loser are you anyway? I feel bad for you, kid.

If you're a lady singin' the blues, check out this incredible dress with a picture of a lady...singin' the blues. It's not vintage, but there's something so intriguing about this long black dress with Billie screen printed on the bottom. Because if anyone knows whats its like to be down and out it's Billie. It's not very easy on your wallet ($495.00, zoinks!), ain't that a kick in the head? But very cool. You can get this and other rock and/or roll fashions (Elvis skirts! T-Rex dresses!) from Fashion Rocks.

For Those About To Rock (We Salute You)

My friends AC/DC couldn't have said it any better. It's Memorial Day again, and a sad one at that. Our veterans and current military just don't get the props they've earned and deserve~ 99.9% of them are not the torturous, raping and pillaging testosterone-driven scumbags the media wants us to believe, but that .1% gets the media attention and somehow stereotype what ALL military personnel are like. Contrary to popular belief, they don't want to be overseas at war and away from their families and normal lives any more than we want to go to our next ob/gyn appointment.

Know an old-timey veteran in your family? Ask them about their experiences, they love that. Know someone currently involved in the military? Give them a high five, buy them a cup of coffee, tell them THANK YOU because jebus knows our own government doesn't.

All politics aside, just remember when you're down and out in Beverly Hills, their lives are a whole lot worse than yours can ever be.

On a lighter note, enjoy some old-timey ads from 1943 and 1944 during WW11. And Happy Memorial Day, dammit!

Beyond The Sea

I'm not one to get sentimental...or even show any emotions for that matter (besides bitchy) because I am half robot and all, but at the risk of sounding like a stupid girl, this weekend marks a neat-o landmark in time for me. This Memorial Day weekend will have been exactly 10 years since The Ball and Chain proposed in a not-very-dramatic-or-romantic-or-even-clever way. Roses, candlelit dinner and horse-drawn carriage ride? Fools. I'm a lucky gal, I get proposed to all casual-like after playing pool. PLAYING POOL, which is far from what dreams are made of.

Our Big Moments In Life have luckily always been captured on film, such as the very first second we met a friend of ours happened to take a picture of us at that split second, and how many people can say they have a picture of the second they met their very own ball and chain? And this picture, taken a minute before he finished playing this game, after which he set the cue down and asked me to marry him.



The man redeemed himself by giving me the coolest vintage ring set I ever laid eyes on and that did in fact make me shed a tear or 2, which is odd because robots don't cry. It went exactly like this, said in a tone like he was asking me if I wanted the last Coke from the fridge:

Ball and Chain: "So whaddya think, wanna get married?"
Me: "Umm, OK."

Here's the serendipitous part. I love serendipity! I also love Serendipity starring John Cusack! Just this morning I was flipping through a bunch of old Better Homes and Gardens and Vogue magazines from the 40's and 50's learning how to build a better bomb shelter and 100 Ways to Use Spam. Reading old magazines is what I do quite a bit when the computer is having a seizure and not functioning and reading a real book is too much of a commitment.

Lo and behold, I found the 1947 ad in Time magazine for my wedding ring set. My rings are bit different than the 4 pictured, but mine are Keepsake, and don't be fooled by the rocks that I got, my diamonds are smaller, which of course figures because why would I ever in my lifetime get huge diamonds? But is that not an amazing amazement? Are you perplexed and mystified as well? And on the same weekend I get proposed to exactly 10 years ago?! Coincidence? Government plot? The world may never know.



Behold!



Shazam! My glorious finger!



I love it when a plan comes together.

Fly Me To The Moon

Men. Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em. But I'm pretty sure that 99% of them can dress better. And I'm also pretty sure that the pants-at-half-mast, clinging-to-ass-undercheek-for-dear-life look hasn't been cool since Generic White College Guy started saying things like "shizzle my nizzle" and "Compton". I thought this trend hasn't been around since the glory days of Clueless, but apparently all the young dudes are still wearing their pants like that. And while I realise I sound like I'm 80 I DON'T CARE. That look sucks eggs, always did always will, no matter what Snoop says- and is only useful if you plan on doing some pretty major ass burglary, like stealing a 12 pound ham. And if you're not stealing me a meat product, then I say good day sir. I SAID GOOD DAY.


Whatever happened to the days when men dressed like men? When did it become OK to wear baseball caps indoors and Miller Light pajama pants to the grocery store? Why don't men light women's cigarettes anymore or do any of those Little Things that Gentleman Do, like they did in the 40's and 50's? When did women allow their men to go out in public looking like hobo douche bags? And why was I not consulted first?! How dare this happen without my consent. Trixie, take a memo. Time to launch Operation Black Magic.



It's never too late for a guy to dress a little more swellegant, you know. Skinny tie? Check. Pork pie? Check. Pinky ring? Duh. While wearing a sharkskin suit to go to the Quickie Mart may be overkill, it wouldn't kill you to wear a jacket and button-down shirt once in a while. Unless the jacket had hidden scorpions in the pocket, then it'd kill you.

It's the little details that count and I swear we chicks go crazy cuckoo for them. And not *just* me but Extremely Hot Chicks With Big Racks Just Like Me *everywhere*. Cuff links. Cabbie hats. 2tone shoes. A wild 40's tie. Just not a Hooters tee shirt. When in doubt, repeat your mantra: "What Would Frank Wear?". Know it. Use it. Live it.


Swanky clothes. Love them. Buy them, Wear them.

Smoking jackets good enough to actually smoke in, but even cooler to wear out. (And if I hear "Halloween", "Hefner" or "Bosstone" you will fear The Wrath of Kim.) From my stash at Fast Eddie's Retro Rags.






Not just suspenders. But vintage 40's Stork Club suspenders, people. STORK CLUB. Get with it. From Dorothea's Closet Vintage.




Records or martini olives? Depends on how many jack and cokes you've had I suppose, though I'm favoring olives. No, records. No, olives. No, donuts. OK, olives. From Morning- Glorious.

Sweet Little Sixteen

Last night I *finally* got around to renting the newest Harry Potter movie, because I am fully aware of my nerdiness and will raise you one Lord of the Rings trilogy that I am watching on TNT right now even though I own the freaking boxed set, because that is HOW A NERD ROLLS and I am loyal to my geek-status movies. The thing I don't get is how these wizard kids and elves with magic never use their powers for personal gain. What's with the morals and the "do the right thing"-iness? Say WHA, now?! I'd be all OVER those powers. Sure I may save a kitten out of a tree and push a guy out of the way from a falling piano from the 6th floor, but damn you, child bearing hips, damn you straight to hell. Zap! Big hips gone. Electric bill or gas bill- which one to pay THIS month? Zap! Money, money, money, muuuh-naaay! I'd have the power to fly, to read thoughts, to be invisible, to be filthy stinking rich and occasionally use it to be good. But probably not that often.

I'd also use powers to have superawesome memory-- so's I don't have to rely on stinking myspace to tell me when my friends' birthdays are- JULIE AND JEN I'M TALKING TO YOU. So here's a blatant shout-out to my friends whose birthdays I missed because I'm apparently the worst friend ever and am too busy sewing my evil villain suit to remember things that don't include world domination.

You can snatch this vintage 30's coat from Julie at Damn Good Vintage a wicked awesome coat that has an old-timey villain feel to it, like the superbad librarian-in-disguise on old-timey England who will give you a firm scolding for talking too loud, meanwhile she's got a rubber catsuit on underneath for her other PT job as dominatrix. Or whatever.



And I'd also have powers to sew like a FIEND, because I would bang out (I said bang out) stupid awesome ensembles in minutes and never wear the same thing twice (damn you Paris Hilton), like the dress on this vintage 40's pattern from Jen at MomsPatterns. I'd ixnay the boob pockets, and make the hip pockets extra big. Where else will my flask and laser gun go?

T'aint What You Do (It's the Way That Cha Do It)

Things that I think are *always* funny. I don't care if they ARE so 5 years ago and who ever said I was hip anyway? So what if my mind is always set in 1992 time? So what if my humor never exceeded 15-year-old-boy level? My mom thinks I'm cool.

1. Beavis and Butthead.
Cornholio! Metal! Poodles in washing machines!

2. Wayne's World.
Beavis and Butthead all growns up. Things I still say but probably shouldn't:
"asphinctersayswhat?"
"Ex-squeeze me?"
"Okay, party. Bonus."
"It will be mine. Oh yes. It will be mine."
"Excuse me, but I believe I requested the hand job."

3. Catch phrases that *no one* should ever say again yet are still funny but if you say them I'll act like it's not funny and then expect YOU to laugh at me when I say them:
"This one time, at band camp"
"This is the big one! Elizabeth, I'm coming sweetheart!"
"Danger, Will Robinson"
"Time to make the donuts"
"I've fallen and I can't get up!
"I'm Rick James, bitch"

Also funny are stinking freaking Bes-Ben Hats. Ok, so they've been talked about before but when you feel craptastic and grumpy, looking at a Bes-Ben makes you feel less craptastic. (Still grumpy, though. I change for no one). And if you don't know about Bes-Bens being total 40's whimsies then you are dead to me and I SAID GOOD DAY SIR. They tend to be absurd and wacky and wonderful and wrong and ridiculous and strange and fabulous. I would like to wear fruit on my head at all times, please. They're funny lil' hats, but not in a funny ha-ha way. More like a "Oh, jumping jebus in a pickup! What a funny little hat! I will give my firstborn for that hat and will wear it everywhere and at the most inappropriate times. It will be mine. Oh yes. It will be mine."

This one is for sale by Antique Dress. Daiquiris sound good right about now, 10:40 in the morning is perfect.



Silver Moon Vintage has this cute little fun one. It's not *that* crazy koo-koo, but still great, so there.



Swans. On your head? That's crazy talk! (I must say though, that these pictures are not that awesome from the Bes-Ben website..oh Bes-Ben...whatsamattayou?!)



What pray tell, would you say is on top of this? Electric wiring? Italian fettuccine on pasta night? Aorta tubing? 'Cuz if it is then SIGN ME UP for a triple bypass.

Get Rhythm

So you're a guy heading to Viva Las Vegas and still haven't found the perfect vintage to wow the broads. No problemo. It's not too late, kid. Wear the best of the best from Fast Eddie's Retro Rags! All delinquent vintage, all the time.

Penney's Towncraft Plaid Panel Shirt Jac w/Flecked Sleeves, L:


50's 2Tone Rayon & Corduroy Loop Collar Shirt Jac, L:


40's/50's Rayon Gaucho Pullover w/Houndstooth Panel, L (Coming later today):


40's Cold Rayon Picnic Plaid Mohawk Sportswear Shirt NOS, L:



She'll thank you in the morning for being so damn awesome.

Lola (L-o-l-a, Lola)

Once upon a time, in a land called "The 80's", Three Wise Men heralded upon the masses: "Every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man." And lo, we were. But is every man crazy 'bout a sharp dressed woman? And do real men wear pink? And are loafers without socks acceptable with a white linen suit? If Crockett and Tubbs go for it, it's good enough for me. All men love a chick in men's clothing. I think the most popular "dancer" at Reverend Ted Haggard's House of Ass-solution wears a pinstriped fedora and tie and comes onstage (not like THAT, pervs) carrying a briefcase. See? Ted Haggard knows a thing or 2 about a thing or 2.

Manly clothing on women has always been hot and I think most men think it's ridiculously hot. Pants?... On a GIRL, you say?! A female?... In the boardroom?! Wearing a SUIT? Why that's just crazy enough to work. Power and status, always good times in my book, not that I've ever had either. But add some femininity and a power suit to make Sigourney Weaver cry and you have pure tnt.

But not in the 80's-Working-Girl-Aqua-Net-Hall-and-Oates-in-the-Beemer-Working-for-the-Weekend-Drinking-Bartles-and-James-while-Jazzercising kind of way. Though that way is sounding awesome and something I feel is my life's mission to go out and do. Minus the Jazzercise. I'm talking women's clothing with a manly edge that says "I'm somebody. Out of the way or bitches get CUT".


"Don't hate me because I wear Reeboks and power walk to my Very Important Phone-Answering Job in The Big City."

Here's a fab vintage 50's Ben Zuckerman pinstriped suit from Susan of North Star Vintage. You KNOW the woman who wore this suit has cut some bitches in her day to get to the top. Now you can too! Joan Crawford approves this message.


Fedora and briefcase sold separately.

And in case you're the sewing type, this not-too-sexual-yet-pants-can-be-sexy vintage 40's pattern from Julie of Sew-Retro Vintage Patterns will do nicely. The gals on the cover KNOW who wears the pants.



Strong enough for a man, but made for a woman.