Prom pictures that are (to be blunt) not good. I think I come closest to number 3. Number 9 is definitely my parents.


Three Replies to I Know His Name Was Bob (Thanks, Amy)

Amy Austin | November 1, 2007
On #4... they call it "Abe Lincoln meets Tammy Faye Baker" -- I call it "Slash meets Perla Ferrar"!

(And, actually... I *do* love that crushed velvet jacket.)

Amy Austin | November 1, 2007
"I know his name was Bob"??? Some prom date!

You should have titled this entry with that one, Farf.

Steve West | November 1, 2007
Good idea.


Web Junkie

Steve West scours the Web searching for interest or absurdity and then shakes his head ruefully when he finds it. Read more »

Nyuk, Nyuk, Nyuk

Vacation Tip #1: A 10,000 square foot, 3 level museum has opened in Springhouse, Pennsylvania devoted to The Three Stooges. Who knew you could assemble this much Three Stooges memorabilia? Then again, why not? Go »

Post-vacation Blues

Without going into great detail, my co-workers are muddle-brained knuckleheads that make the Keystone Kops look like a Mensa meeting. Federal sanctions are not that far-fetched. Changes will be made soon. Go »

Post-Delaware Staycation

The last leg of our vacation was a trip to Dutch Wonderland in Lancaster, PA. This is a pretty terrific amusement park for kids, I mean little kids. Most of the rides are designed for children between the ages 6 & 10. Go »

Placing Lust's Arrow In Cupid's Quiver

It's refreshing to reflect that the human race survived the sexually repressive Victorian Era. That women actually overcame their culturally reinforced suppression of sexual urges and ultimately spread their legs for something other than yeast related trail-blazing. Let's relive those glory days with the Victorian Sex Cry Generator and see where Fern Michaels gets her inspiration. Go »

Absurd One-Shots

Small collection of photos that caught my eye while surfing and gave me at least a brief chuckle. Funeral services ad in an interesting location; Signmaker with a sense of humor; British bus ad with an unfortunate exhaust pipe placement; and finally from the "How Could They Not Notice" department, a Parents Magazine cover with an even more unfortunate layout. Go »

No Clowns On Halloween Allowed At My Door

Or "How Ronald McDonald Kicked My Ass" About ten years ago, shortly before Brenda and I got married, we attended a Halloween party at a friend's house. The primary reason to get together was obviously to dress up like we did when we were little but secondarily to get drunk as a sailor on shore leave. The standard "funny name" cocktails were offered like "sex on the beach" and "southern screw" and "raw sewage". Go »