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.

What Difference Does It Make?

Just a quickie post (I said "just a quickie" uh huh huh huh, shut up Beavis), because it's friday night and I have incredibly exciting and important and amazing and magical things not to do. But. I discovered a website that is so generally me, so wonderfully indifferent and pessimistic and magical (yeah, I don't know what's up with all the "magical" crap either) that I sort of have to share the dismal. Maybe you've already discovered it (in which case, what, you think you're better than me because you dork out on the computer longer than I do?), but if you haven't, the site is Despair.com. Before you're all "Kim, what's the haps, are you turning Goth on me? Have you been buying your clothes at Hot Topic or WHAT because you're freaking me out, man", let me say that no, I am no goth but I do love me some Smiths and generally most 80's gloomy British bands of the ilk, so back off my jock. Nay, the site sells novelty schlock like tee shirts, mouse pads, coffee mugs and that general sort of crap, but the stuff printed on them is hilariously dismal. Sounds weird, I know. But here is a sampling of some of my favorite posters, not that I'd actually buy any, but I sure do love going to the website and wasting time reading all 100-odd sayings they've got. I could marry the guy who made this stuff up. (Although, it might be a girl who invented it, in which case I'd have to wonder if she's my alternate-universe doppelganger, like in that episode of the Twilight Zone.) Good times. In a not-at-all-good-but-slightly-depressing-because-it's-true way. Behold:

Blitzkreig Bop

"What in the hell are you wearing, Mary? What are you, like, a pilgrim or something? I don't see you churning butter or wearing buckle shoes, so that can't be it. Have you converted to Mennonite? I'm pretty sure Mennonites aren't allowed to wear faux leather heels from Payless and reek of Britney Spears perfume, but I could be wrong. Maybe they're so desperate for members that they'll let any ol' skank in. Try not to spontaneously combust into flames when entering the church, ok sweetie?"

"It figures a knave like you wouldn't appreciate the cutting edge lines of this dress. It's tres fabulous in Paris right now. It's not even going to be in stores until next year. That's right bitch, this is from the 1955 fall line. This is what all the women are wearing in Paris now, but you wouldn't know that, given your- how can I put this delicately- quaint domestic lifestyle. Let's discuss your ensemble, shall we? What, are you going for the "cancer patient" look? Lovely frock you have on. I'm sorry I interrupted your exciting life of dusting ceiling fans and scrubbing toilets. Oh but wait, you have your good babushka on your head, so you must be steppin' out somewhere fancy- the Piggly Wiggly I presume?"