(And then, if you’re really like me, you’ll wonder why you can never pronounce “indignant” properly, whether or not you should say something to your crazy neighbor about her penchant for relieving stress by bouncing a rubber ball repeatedly against your shared wall, and if it’s a problem that you’ve had 3, count e'm, 3 fudgesicles so far today. )
Well, I’m taking a stand. No longer will I be shackled by my fears! The following item may not be terribly funny to you, but by gum,* I think it’s utterly uproarious. **
First, a bit of background. One of my brothers is also into photography. While on our recent trip to my parents’ house (wherein we encountered the Doll of Dirrrty), I went through his photography books to see if there was anything I could borrow. Among the actual, helpful books, I also found a small photography book from the 1950’s, which he had picked up for its comedic value at a vintage bookstore. I can’t adequately convey the hilarity of the tone in which this book was written. It’s definitely a product of its time, with such gems as how to get the best shots of a “vivacious model, full of pep and enthusiasm.” There is also useful advice, like “Never use your photography as a means of…getting a girl out in the woods.” The whole thing reminds me of this:
Best of all, though, is the introduction to the book itself. Now, there is no possible way for me to do justice to the Best Foreword Ever Written, so here it is:
My friends, meet Peter Gowland...photographer of women! The greatest pin-up artist of them all! I did some research, and though it seems that he actually has some clout, the foreword contains what is no doubt some of the most over-the-top prose ever written by the hand of man. (See? I can do it, too!)
It is now my goal to live a life that will one day inspire someone to write something like this about me.
Speaking of photography, I now submit to you a picture I took (albeit with my camera phone), which is Exhibit # 1,034,459 in the “Hot Damn! I’m a Pervert!” file:
I am a grown-up.
I pay taxes, go food shopping, and other grown-uppy things.
I am someone’s mother, for God’s sake.
And yet? I COULD NOT STOP LAUGHING AT THE NAME OF THIS ICE CREAM.
I STILL CAN’T.
I’m sorry, but “Milky Pleasures”?! I’m not made of stone!
“…[T]hey called it a "bloody tampon." It's Yukon Jack® Canadian whisky, lemon juice, tequila, vodka, vegetable juice, Bailey's® Irish cream. You put the lemon juice in at the end, which causes the cream to curdle and become somewhat tampon-shaped.”
Now, the drink’s name alone is gag-inducing, but the combination of ingredients, plus that visual? Well, it just makes me want to hurl. Congratulations, Stephanie! Send me your address, and your prize will be on its way.
*That would be the coal miner talking again.