Check out these beauties by semi-local Michael Yates of Austin.... Hans Wegner meets Frank Lloyd Wright meets Japan - TRIFECTA!!!!!
|1970s Virgina Slims ad via teenangster.net|
So I am sorting through this box of the most fabulous photos of two African American families from the late 1800s through the 70s from two estates that we bought this summer and I come across this little 1976 booklet of LOVE COUPONS. The cover reassuringly says ... For a Very Special Guy, a very special gift... Oh goody I think to myself, I'll throw a few of these my husband's way... just to keep it fresh. And then I start reading them...
COUPON NUMBER UN
Yech! Yech! Double Yech!
I may hate it, but for you I'll cook it. One ethnic meal of your choice.
Really? Is there a marital disconnect that I am unaware of - men all over the world disgusted at their wife's refusal to cook an ethnic meal? I want to give this to my husband just so I can see the look on his face when he realizes the coupon is not good for a BJ and then hear the pusillanimous "thank you?"
COUPON NUMBER DEUX
This coupon good for instant forgiveness, one time only,
for wearing any one of the following:
One strange female hair, one mighty peculiar lipstick smudge, one perfume scent I never wear.
REALLY? Because this problem...ADULTERY.... is actually an issue for most marriages and the last time I checked no f***ing coupon was a magic fix.
COUPON NUMBER TROIS
This coupon good for 60 seconds of penalty-free ogling of the opposite sex. Caution: Penalty goes into effect at 61st second. (Double caution: Ogling member of the same sex may invalidate entire coupon book.)
REALLY? Pay close attention to the last part there because at this point I start to feel a little guilty. It becomes apparent that this poor girl who wrote the LOVE COUPONS is still unsure whether or not her Very Special Guy is straight or gay.
Needless to say- "We've come a long way baby ."
|photo - Karsten Schneider for National Geographic|
I have the flu and I am feeling rather uninspired - I decided to search for inspiration in the flu itself, but I am afraid that the only thing inspired and influenza share is the same number of letters... yes friends, the well, unlike my lungs, is dry.
Do you see the the nasty little brown plunkers invading the beautiful blue cilia of my smoke free lungs? This is God's special reward for me for volunteering in my daughter's kindergarten class last Friday. My hazy mind recollects the slow motion of forty four two inch fingers brushing across twenty two little cartilaginous noses before they stage dive into the crowd of festering infectious markers, glue sticks and crayons. Why stop at washable markers Crayola? How about self sanitizing aromatherapy washable markers with dosing caps? Now that's inspiration...