HAPPY OCTOBER EVERYONE.
Life has taught me that parental expertise is not necessarily inherited. My mom was a great cook, so you’d think I have a small thread of the cooking gene — but no. This apple fell far from the tree.
Probably the best compliment regarding my cooking skills came from my 11 year old son:
"I like this. It taste like airplane food.”
~Take that Martha Stewart~
The LOSERSISTERS’ local taylor was a middle aged Ukranian lady with thick eye-glasses, sporadic facial hair, and a daughter named Gina. With a stronger command of English, Gina manned the counter. She had a pleasant face and proportions until she turned around. Then we were transported from earth into some unknown galaxy. Here was an ass of such enormous proportion that we marveled that her legs and back didn’t buckle. Here was an ass so robust that it resembled a glacier shelf. Effusive sedimentation fired, deposited, and rounded her hind quarters. It was awesome. She then became known as: ”THE GINA OF THE LARGE BUTT.”
To this day, the LOSERSISTERS’ default reply to “What are you doing?” is “Just working on my shelf butt.”
It’s a dog eat dog world—and I’m wearing bacon underpants.
“Where is all the knowledge we lost with information?” —T.S. Eliot
In my hometown, a white middle class suburb of Chicago, children engaged in a variety of activities ranging from reading to sports (especially if you were a boy). We were allowed to roam freely as long as we were home by dinner. Summertime lent itself to swim lessons, the occasional camp experience, and the rarer vacation to a lakeside cottage.
Scheduled and structured recreational activities were limited. Mostly, we played. Played for fun, friendship, and neighborhood playground domination. Boys played imaginary war games and girls played with Barbies. This wasn’t all bad, because MY Barbie was Astronaut, Scientist, Actress, News Anchor, Concert Pianist BARBIE. And she could belt out a tune. I decided that she was also a Surgeon after dismembering and reattaching her limbs.
The Computer and Information Age was escalating. Technical/mechanical advancements generally reserved for Cold War espionage, Ian Fleming novels, and “The Jetsons” crept into the vernacular. We watched “Get Smart” on black & white televisions and coveted the Shoe-Phone. We learned about the mushroom cloud and hid under our school desks. Neighbors built bomb shelters —Extremely homely looking neighbors. We figured if they were the only other survivors, we’d be better off dead.
The Vietnam War and the war for Civil Rights entered our living rooms and national psyche. Television introduced us to the Beatles. I knew this was a big deal, but was embarrassed and mortified by the female hysteria.
We used the Encyclopedia Britannica as THE definitive research paper source, typed our term papers on manual typewriters, and stained our fingers with carbon paper.
To those who say it was a simpler time —simply weren’t paying attention.
THREE AMIGOS (THEN):
THREE AMIGOS (NOW):
How Steve Carrel, Jon Stewart, and Stephen Colbert would look if they had to pose like females.
ERIC BOWMAN’S ”ICE WOMAN”
LOSERSISTER RECIPE FOR FUN:
Bucket of Frosting? Check.
Let the celebration begin.