This entry was posted on Monday, February 27th, 2017 at 9:33 am and is filed under memory lane, simple pleasures. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time. —Bertrand Russell
Stop trying to make everybody happy. You aren’t chocolate.
Bob's sister Hannah
Bob's sister Ada
Bob's sister Eve
Bob's sister Nan
Bob's brother Otto
A baby picture of Bob and his siblings (clockwise from upper left: Otto, Eve, Hannah, Ada, Bob, and Nan)
Bob's childhood home
Bob's mom and dad
Bob in his youth
Bob's Uncle Ralph and Aunt Edna
Bob's cousin Archibald
Bob's stepbrother Herbie (who really needs to quit smoking)
Bob's cousin Chester
Bob's Great Uncle Norbert and Great Aunt Phyllis
Bob's cousin Saffron (who will do anything for a drink)
Bob's sister-in-law Sybil
Bob's cousin Thorndike
Bob's brother-in-law Vinnie
Bob's cousin Orville, who loves the Green Bay Packers
Bob's nieces Lulu and Bitsy, the biker chicks
Bob's stepsister Eloise, with the twins, Rudy and Trudy
Bob's Uncle Henry and Aunt Rowena
Bob's niece Esmerelda (who likes to live dangerously)
Bob's Great Uncle Arthur up in Saskatchewan
Bob's cousin Louie, the grackle of grumpiness
Bob's nephew Virgil, who loves sports
Miss Screech, Bob's journalism teacher
Bob's second cousin Schlomo in Brooklyn
Bob's Uncle Seymour and Aunt Bernice
Bob's nephew Baxter
Nigel, Bob's pen pal in New Zealand
Bob's sister-in-law Delphine, who volunteers at the animal shelter
Percy the Pickpocket, Bob's third cousin once removed (the relative no one likes to talk about... every family has one)
The Bluebird of Happiness (no relation to Bob)
A pair of boobies (also no relation to Bob, but included for readers who desire titillation)
A pair of tits (in case the boobies were insufficiently titillating)
Bluebird Bitter™, the beer they named for Bob
Reblogged this on O LADO ESCURO DA LUA.
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Thank you for reblogging. 🙂
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It was a big treat to be taken to the A&W Root Beer stand in my home town for a root-beer float. Yum. Sad to say, that stand is long gone. The nearest A&W outlet is in a Shell mini-mart several miles from where the stand once stood. “Progress” is too often regress.
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Our idea of a big treat was when Dad took us to McDonald’s. This was back in the days when a hamburger cost 15 cents, and there was no indoor seating — you went inside and got your food, then you ate it in your car. The fact that we only got to do it maybe a couple of times a year made it an even bigger treat.
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I remember when the sign at McDonald’s said “5 million sold.”
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So do I! Gosh, we’re ancient!
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I may be just a cynical soul, but doesn’t “Keen” just look like Kool Aid? By the way, make the lady sniffing the just-opened coffee look like a granny and that would be me.
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“Keen” seems to have been Nestle’s version of Kool-Aid. My mother always bought Kool-Aid, so I don’t think I ever actually tasted Keen. I probably wouldn’t have noticed the difference if I had, though. I wasn’t what you’d call a very discerning consumer in my youth.
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Good old A&W Root beer floats, they were so good.
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Nowadays the local doctor would tell you that just looking at those ads will shorten your life expectancy.
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That meatloaf looks menacing.
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I always thought that about Jello.
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