Open Book

It's time for the March vintage giveaway! Can you even stand it? I know I can. I'm jumping the gun this month and doing it (I said doing it) a little early, since at the end of the month I'm going away on a super awesome happy fun time vacay and will have no time to delight the world with with the free crapola. (Actual "super" "awesome" or "happy" is debatable, since it is a vacation with family, after all. But they do put the "fun" in dysfunction.)

This month it's a vintage book. And before you're all "Uhh, a book? Thanks, mom. That's exactly what we always wanted. A book. Maybe next month you'll give us new socks if we're really good and do our chores. Swell." But there's hardly any actual reading required, just a social commentary of post-war America told through titled black and white photos. (Ha! I sounded like I knew what I was talking about there for a second!) Also, Reading Is Fundamental, bitches. The book is called: "The Fifties: Photographs of America." (Ok, so the book is vintage 1985, but it's still vintage so shut your pieholes. You'll love it. Why? Because I said you'll love it, that's why.)

As usual, everyone and anyone is welcome to sign up for the giveaway! (Except hippies.) Either leave a comment that you want in, or drop me a line at fasteddiesretrorags@yahoo.com. I'll randomly pick a winner (or whomever bribes me the best) in a week, on March 17. As usual, you don't pay a thing! And for your own protection (from loan sharks and common mob goons) don't post your name and address here!



Behold what you you'll feast your eyes on, through my crappy photo skillz. I said behold!



"Life in a trailer park."



"Working on the car." It's a good thing the author told us they're working on a car. I thought they were baking a pie.



"Showgirl and Eddie Fisher." More like "Eddie Fisher: Big Pimpin'." (Do you think he tried to sneak a peek at her rack?)



"Gang." Amy Winehouse and the Gang pile into the Mystery Machine and head on down to Coney Island, to crack The Case of the Missing 8 Ball.



"Jane Mansfield and her dog." Aww, c'mon, you knew there'd be a gratuitous JMan shot! (Her leopard swimsuit= love.) Making tiny, pain in the ass designer dogs that you carry in a Louis Vuitton handbag cool, way before Beverly Hills Chihuahua and that useless Hilton broad. (No, I mean, the other one.)



"Motorama". The cars of tomorrow, today.



Bunny Hop. Blasphemous teens! Avert your eyes to the sinning! Don't they know that dancing combined with rock and/or roll music sends them on a path straight to sexual intercourse- and then girls getting jobs- and then to the devil? It's time for an old fashioned bible-thumping, Footloose-style.

"Open Book" by Cake.

Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue

In more Barbie news (I know, I know, enough with the Barbie already, but this is so ridonkulous I have to share the stupid), you'll be happy to know that Mattel is branching out in it's hipness and releasing a Tattoo Barbie. I kid you not. Because that's exactly what 6-year-olds have been wanting. Apparently the company tried it once before to the outrage of many, but they're giving it another go? Because tattoos aren't just for high school senior football players and 45-year-old midlife crisis moms anymore! Now, I'm all for self-expression. Or whatever. I have many tattoos myself, but you bet your ass not a one is someone's name nor does my abdomen say "Thug Life" in Old English lettering. Although I would not object to "Slug Life". Tattoos are rarely about self-expression these days. What are you expressing with that Tinkerbell tattoo, exactly? Yeah. That's what I though.

So just what will Miss Thang look like? So whatddya think: will she look like a college sorority skank with a peace sign on her ankle and a barbed wire arm piece? Or will she look like a Rock of Love reject? Let's see the 1999 version...



She's gonna look cool. If you think having a "tribal" lower back tattoo and a "Ken" in a heart on her chest is cool. Which it is not. And for the record, what the hell does "tribal" even mean? What tribe are you from exactly, to necessitate representing it in a tattoo? "Doucebag Tribe represent, yo." That's about at stupid as getting any Asian character tattoo. How do you know the tattoo you thought meant "peace and love" in Chinese doesn't really mean "jackass"? This just in: tattoos are officially over.

Call Me

I think I'm going to start a new installment on this ding dang blog called Weird Wednesdays. Or something. I don't know, that name's not set in stone, people. It's a little too cliche, I know. But for now let's just roll with "Weird Wednesdays" unless someone else can think of something better to call it.

Moving forward. Please enjoy the inspiration for Weird Wednesday (Or "Name Pending"). Brace yourself, it is FUG and SCARY and SCARY FUG and might make you queeze if you have a weak stomach:

....

Now's the time to walk away, pansiefolk, and get yourself a Mr. Pibb.

....


Get ready to feast your eyes on the freak show which is called the:

"VISIBLE MAN/WOMAN Rotary Torso Phone Outsider Art 1970s
Hermaphrodite Tested Works hand made Folk Sculpture"



What. The. Frick. It's a telephone, but it's art? It's a terrorphone. (Sounds like Engrish. Ha!) The nipple! Not good. The vintage-iness of it is so-called 70's, but you can take any old phone laying around and build a flesh-eating diseased, paper mache carcass around it and call it vintage, so that's debatable. But whatever, that's the least of my concern. It's "hermaphrodite tested"? I was not aware of hermaphrodites' excellence in phone-testing skills. Huh. Learn something new every day.*




It's a man, baby.




So...it's a woman? I don't get it. Oh! Ohh....OH. Now I get it. It's a hermaphrodite phone. That makes sense now. Wait...No it doesn't.




Oh sweet moses. I wasn't ready for that. I WASN'T READY! You'd be glad to know it's a real working phone. In the market for a skinned torso he/she phone? (And who isn't?) You can bid on it now, on ebay. From Hang Fire Books. You're welcome.


*No hermaphrodites were harmed in the making of this phone. Although, good taste and humor have pretty much been obliterated.

Ain't She Sweet

Barbie turns 50 this month, having made her debut in March, 1959! Who knew people thought she's still socially relevant? Well, not that she ever really was, but damn if that girl didn't have the best friggin' closet. Excluding the plastic stripper heels, they were and always will be fug. The plastic doll that could, Barbie's look and career (Ha! Like girls have careers) sure have changed with each passing era. Although we all want to root for Veterinarian Barbie or Stewardess -nay- Flight Attendant Barbie, you know you're not kidding anyone because every girl loved the vapid Barbie best, the one who did nothing all day but cruise around in her Barbie Corvette and sit in her Barbie Hot Tub and drive to to the Barbie Nail Salon in her Barbie RV. (The "poor kids" made hot tubs out of water-filled zip lock bags. FAIL. Not the same.) I personally enjoyed the Barbie-as-Bimbo eras best, never owned a Lawyer Barbie or Doctor Barbie, but had just about every pink, sparkling, tulle gown monstrosities created. And not once did I ever compare myself to her or get an eating disorder and a boob job to compete with her image, so put that in your un-PC Barbie Cigarette Holder and smoke it.



To honor her 50th birfday designers including Vera Wang, Badgley Mischka, Tommy Hilfilger and Calvin Klein designed Barbie-inspired fashions throughout her years for New York's Fashion Week last month at Bryant Park.

Remember your Barbie wardrobe envy:



(If I had this green ensemble, I'd wear it everywhere, yo.



(Can I just say I covet her Coal Miner's Daughter-meets-June Carpenter hairdo?)







(Would.Kill.Anyone.For.Polka.Dotty.Bathing Suit.)





(Trench coat and 1959-inspired swimsuit? Umm. Ok, I guess. whatever.)

People Are Strange

So I've been getting pictures ready for this month's giveaway and came across this awesomely cheesetastic picture which pretty requires mocking. It's from the 1958 inauguration of some random college president at the University of California and it's sort of fascinating in a "people-watching at the park" kind of way. Except it's not really fascinating, more like a way a super awesome dork like me likes to waste time. And it's not at the park. And it's a picture from the 50's. So I guess it's not really people-watching, more like...picture watching? It's not at all like people-watching, so nevermind.

The crappy picture:



Ok, ok, the faraway view isn't that entertaining, just a bunch of nerds at the stadium. But zoom in on:



It's Napoleon Dynamite. Gosh.



I have these *exact* same sunglasses! Only mine are held together with clear tape, since the pin dealies fell out of the hinges on the arms. Yeah, I'm a nerd and I deal with that every day. You should too.



Digging for gold? Busted.

(And if you haven't guessed it by now, this month's free crapola giveaway will be a vintage book! Duh. Don't you roll your eyes at me, it's a cool book! You better watch it mister, or else I'll sign you up for a year's worth of "The Watchtower" pamphlets.)

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

This is so out of the area of what I normally blog (read: bitch and complain) about, what with it being a good cause and helping and all that baloney (who me, cynical? never), but this really is a good cause and anything involving fun with bras and boobs, and I'm in.

The Quilters of South Carolina created the Arfull Bras Project, where members designed bras in the name of Breast Cancer Awareness, and they're really like mini works of art involving feathers (good), sequins (awesome) and all sorts of other random crap (and who doesn't love random crap?) The exhibit is traveling all over the state of SC until October after which the bras will be auctioned off and the proceeds going to the Best Chance Network, an organisation that provides care and treatment of uninsured women across the state who are diagnosed with breast and cervical cancer. And not to be all Debbie Downer or anything, but most of us know someone who has battled breast cancer. (Check out the schedule for the exhibit here.)

PSA over. Lets look at some over the shoulder boulder holders already! (yeah, maybe I am 12.) Here's a sample of some of my favorites:



For your inner Fembot.



Get a load of them melons!



Underwires are from hell.



I have nothing witty to say about this. Just that it's almost unhealthy how much I really, really want to wear this one.

Rump Steak Serenade

Continuing on with more culinary monstrosities from the 50's! If you haven't eaten yet, you probably shouldn't look at these pictures. But if you have eaten, you probably shouldn't look at these pictures. No one in good conscience should make any of these recipes. In fact, no one should even look in their general vicinity. I cannot be held responsible for any suicidal tendencies or mental anguish the following foodstuffs may cause.



And now, from 1959's "Knudsen Recipes: The Very Best", I bring you the very worst:





These 2 pages are apparently from the "Popular Dishes From 3rd World Countries: Leave No Part of the Animal Behind. Now with More Hooves & Retinas!" section of the cookbook. I've never seen more pure white cream sauce all over the place in my life. (...that's what she said. Hey-yo!...) Which of course brings me to:



The Chamber Pot & Dirty Sock Special: For cooking in the bathroom. Easy come, easy go. Ahem.



Meat and balls. That's all I'm gonna say. Use your imagination.