Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack, With Images of Marilyn Monroe At No Extra Charge

Eartha Kitt, singin' about how good it is:

Je cherche un millionnaire
Avec des grands "Cadillac car"
"Mink coats" - Des bijoux
Jusqu'au cou, tu sais?

(Full lyrics here, including an English translation for those of you in need.)

Heh.  Well, I have ONE of the prerequisites...

Wasn't Marilyn just THE most beautiful woman?

Just Because

Bikes and wimmen... what's NOT to like?



We were floundering around, trying to find sumthin' suitable for posting on this too-damned-cold Monday morning (23 degrees as we speak, on its way to 41) and came across what you see above.  Which brings to mind that ol' Richard Thompson song, wherein he maintains "red hair and black leather" is his protagonist's favorite color scheme.  Or blonde.  Or brunette.  Whatever floats yer particular boat.  I'm rather partial to blondes, myself.

The Second Mrs. Pennington on my box-stock RD400, 1979.  The bike didn't stay stock for long.

Heh

Oh, this is good...



Just in case you've been under a rock for the past week or three, the vid is a parody of this "tempest in a teacup."

H/t: Cassandra.

MY Kinda Place!

I can see myself in that picture, but... alas.  I was in Prague about 14 years too early.

A Lil Levity

Occasional Reader and Constant Correspondent Lin sends this along...

I met an older woman at a bar last night. She looked pretty good for a 60-year-old. In fact, she wasn't too bad at all, and I found myself thinking she probably had a really hot daughter. We drank a couple of beers and she asked if I'd ever had a Sportsman's Double? "What's that?" I asked. "It's a mother and daughter threesome" she said. As my mind began to embrace the idea and I wondered what her daughter might look like, I said, "No, I haven't." We drank a bit more, then she said with a wink "Tonight's your lucky night, cowboy." We went back to her place and walked in. She put on the hall light and shouted upstairs "Mom ... you still awake?"

Heh.  Yanno whut?  At my age I think I'd be up for that. 

In other news... It's been an absolutely brilliant day here on The High Plains o' New Mexico.  We've had rain off and on all day (as opposed to those five to ten minute cloud bursts we usually get) and the temperature hasn't risen above 70 degrees.  Like this:

 

 

It actually felt a lil bit chilly out on the verandah during Happy Hour but we made do.  You can see the rain has moved off to the east but it sure was nice while it lasted.  And there will be more rain tomorrow.  Yes, yes, yes... bring it ON!

In Which We Steal From Our Fellow Bloggers. Again.

But Hey!  At least it's not Shoebox this time.  Nope, this is from the captain of HMS Defiant:



My comment over at Curt's place: "HELP! I'm trapped in the wimmen's 'no-go' zone!"  Of course I COULD have said "I lived in the men's Fun Zone all my life, and look what it got me."  Those comments aside, I think the guy in the video is on to sumthin' pretty profound.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

The Police, with an '80s chestnut:

Roxanne
You don't have to wear that dress tonight
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right

Roxanne
You don't have to put on the red light
Roxanne
You don't have to put on the red light

I had a Roxanne in my life in the way-wayback.  My Roxanne was my girlfriend during my senior year in high school and for a brief time after that.  Roxy was, quite literally, a Teen-Age Beauty Queen.  By that I mean the girl was a veteran beauty pageant contestant by the time she... we... were in high school.  That was prolly the most interesting thing about the girl, and she had the looks to prove it.  The least-interesting thing about her was her mother, who was the stereotypical stage mother... a woman who had an entire room in her house dedicated to Roxy's trophies, framed 8x10 glossies, dried flowers, tiaras, gowns, and every-frickin'-thing one can imagine about beauty pageants, dating back to Roxy's first competition when she couldn't have been more than a few months out of diapers.  The room was like a shrine and left me rather awe-struck the first time I saw it.  But back to the mother... 

Roxy's mom was a German war-bride, a fading beauty with that signature guttural German accent (that makes EVERYthing seem ominous and/or evil) who'd gone to seed quite a few years before I met her.  The woman also hated me with an unexplained passion; she made this quite plain and took no steps to conceal her contempt for me; insults were frequent and not at all that subtle.  As a matter of fact, Roxy's mom could have been modeled on Ilsa, whose image is at right; just add 30 pounds around the waistline and that's HER.  The woman was enough of a (w)itch that visits to the family home were painful and therefore quite rare.  Roxy and I spent most of our time together at my house or "out."  But we persevered, she and I, Mom be damned.

Well, we persevered until about two months after I left to join the Air Force.  I received my very first "Dear John" letter from Roxy the month I arrived at Keesler Airplane Patch after basic training.  I'm pretty sure Roxy went on to become a successful call girl; I'm just glad she ran into Sting.  Things could have ended badly, otherwise.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack...

... makes an early appearance today, mainly coz we CAN.  The Stones:

I'm the man who walks the hillside
In the sweet summer sun
I'm the man that brings you roses
When you ain't got none

Well and I can run and jump
And fish, but I won't fight
You if you want to push
And pull with me all night

That lyric brings to mind this lil episode...

Apropos o' not much... the lady's immediate reaction was "No one has ever bought me roses before!"  Which, I suppose, might could be a comment about the class o' men she hung with before she met YrHmblScrb.  That said, we never did get around to that "push and pull with me all night" thing, even though we tried our BEST.  Insert big-ass sigh here.

Say WHAT?

Eleven words a second?  Wow.  

The girl at the fast-food counter cracked me up.  On another note, one wonders if the lady has a boyfriend or husband.

Saturday: (No Tag Line)

I just could NOT think of a suitable title for this:



It's pretty damned funny, though... "Your grandpa's bobbing for ovaries!"... and well-played.

His and Hers

My Buddy Ed In Florida sent this along a while back...

Well, OK... I should have titled the post "Hers and His" based on the precedence of the images.  But ya get the ideer, right?

And Then There's This

Migawd but that woman has a BIG ass.  That alone disqualifies her as a serious candidate for anything.

Mouseketeers?

"Hey, there! Hi, there! Ho there! You're as welcome as can be...  M-I-C-K-E-Y..."

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

Heart, with Nancy Wilson on lead vocal...



Ah... the Wilson sisters.  EVERYONE was in love with Nancy back in the day and she was/is most certainly a fine looking woman.  Me?  I had the hots for Ann, seein' as how I've always leaned toward the zaftig types.  That said, all those other guys might have been right as Nancy appears to have aged much better than Ann.  But, hey!  A classic case of "now and then," eh?

A BONE For You

From the Usual USAF Source, of course...

Air Frame: A B-1B Lancer, assigned to the 7th Bomb Wing at Dyess AFB, Texas, takes off during Green Flag 14-6 on April 24, 2014, at Nellis AFB, Nev. (Air Force photo by SrA. Christopher Tam)

Speaking of bones... I thought long and hard (heh) about posting this video, wherein this guy un-boxes a Sybian he bought as a Mother's Day present for HIS MOM.  I kid thee not, that's exactly what he says on several different occasions.  The video is work-safe, I suppose, in that there aren't any blatantly pornographic aspects to the vid at all.  But the very IDEER is quite unsettling and therefore might not be work safe.  So, after all that thinking I decided not to go there but you can if ya wanna, coz the vid is amusing and laugh-out-loud funny, in parts.  But still and even... HIS MOM?

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

Lyle, coverin' a Jackson Browne tune...

But Rosie you're all right -- you wear my ring
When you hold me tight -- Rosie that's my thing
When you turn out the light -- I've got to hand it to me
Looks like it's me and you again tonight Rosie

The original J. Browne version and I had a long and storied relationship in the wayback.  I played this tune a lot when I was separated from My Beloved before we married and again while off on extended TDYs and/or bid'niz trips.  The tune was a standing joke in certain circles and justifiably so... there's a bit o' truth in the lyrics.

But these days?  No.  Don't go there.  Don't EVEN go there.

And now it's back out to the verandah.

Just Checkin' the Box

That would be the box that sez "post at least once a day."

I dunno why that card was rejected.  I would have bought a box or two of those about 40 years ago.

Do It for Denmark!

Mebbe we should call this Saturday, Part II.



That agency DOES have a point about sex frequency and vacations... at least after you've been married for a few years.  Don't ask me how I know.

What Drives Traffic and a Mystery

You'll note the "All time" box in the upper right corner is checked, so this means the five posts highlighted are the all-time page view champs here at EIP.  I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why Number One has so many apparent page views.  That 54,779 number is clearly bogus but that particular post is number one no matter if the criterion is all time, month, week, yadda, yadda.  I just don't get it.  So much for the mystery.  But what drives real traffic?

Well, just for drill, the all-time Top Four posts at EIP, counting up, are:

a drawing of a boiler system,  
a photo of a transrectal prostate biopsy procedure
photos of D-Day
and... drum roll, please... this is Numero Uno:

Tuesday, February 08, 2011

Again?

Yes, again.  Note the wind chill: six below.  But I take comfort in the fact that at least a few people are having a good time somewhere on the planet at this moment... perhaps in the south of France, on some Greek island in the Med, or down in Rio.  Like this:

Puritanism is sometimes defined as "the pervasive feeling that someone, somewhere is having a good time" and hedonism is the exact opposite.  You prolly know which camp beach I'm in on, Gentle Reader.

The message?  Titties get traffic.  LOTS of traffic.  The other message?  EIP is primarily a blog for googlers.  (sigh)

Saturday: SNL

I don't watch the show any longer, haven't for years.  But this is good:



Heh.