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This entry was posted on Monday, August 28th, 2017 at 9:03 am and is filed under simple pleasures. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
This entry was posted on Monday, August 28th, 2017 at 9:03 am and is filed under simple pleasures. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
I have a memory like an elephant. In fact, elephants often consult me.
—Noel Coward
My boss told me to have a good day, so I came home.
Home sweet home
Bob's sister Hannah
Bob's sister Ada
Bob's brother Otto
Bob's sister Eve
Bob's sister Nan
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 cousin Alphonse
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 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
Miss Screech, Bob's journalism teacher
Bob's nephew Winthrop, who loves sports
Bob's Uncle Seymour and Aunt Bernice
Bob's second cousin Schlomo in Brooklyn
Bob's nephew Baxter
Bob's cousin Darrell
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)
Bluebird Bitter™, the beer they named for Bob
Out of a sense of self-preservation, I will keep my thoughts to myself.
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OMG, those pointy bras!!!!
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Those crack me up!
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I love old ads. They bring back happy memories. 🙂 — Suzanne
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So you are about 8 or 10 or 12 years old and you find yourself in one of those situations where the only thing around to entertain you is a stack of ladies magazines. Perhaps you’ve been hornswoggled into a trip to the salon with your grandmother on the way to the ice cream store. Anyway, you pick up one of these things while trying to ignore the strange smells emanating from the ladies hair and start flipping through the ads. Oh. My. Gosh. And 80% if it is indecipherable. You have no idea what these ads are about or why someone would advertise this stuff. Very scary times.
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I wonder if that’s the same bust-enhancing product sold by Napoleon Dynamite’s uncle…. 😉
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