When I was a kid, I sold Christmas cards door to door, from a sample catalog. They were beautiful cards, with all manner of sparkly crap and embossed gold or silver bits. The ones that Walmart sells just don’t cut it. So we ordered the fanciest ones we could find. I like to beat Aunt Jean to the punch if I can.
Seems like every day I find that something is better the way it used to be. Case in point, Ipana squeeze bottle toothpaste.
Toothpaste tubes are just nasty. Looking for an alternative, I see that Amazon has pump bottle toothpaste, (expensive) and even toothpaste tablets that you chew to get it foaming, then brush. Yuk.
What happened to the simple squeeze bottle toothpaste? They could make it recyclable plastic; The plastic filament my 3d printer uses is derived from renewable resources like cornstarch, sugar cane, tapioca roots and potato starch. That would be perfect.
I never know what to get my wife for Christmas. They are pushing those fancy Pelotin exercise bikes on TV as a gift, with some inane zoomer taking 38 selfies before she even gets on the thing. I’m like, Really, I’m to get her an exercise machine for Christmas? I think not. No vacuum cleaners or kitchen utensils either. We haven’t been married 36 years for me to get el kabonged with a new skillet.
A sweater might go over well, a yellow one- if she is as high as the lady in this ad, there will be Cheetos dust.
We used to own a novelty store. One day I was searching for wholesale remote control fart machines (Think whoopie cushions but electronic). There is a company in China offering these;
I don’t know what the Chinese researchers use this for, but godspeed to them. Maybe someday everyone will have flowery, wonderfully aromatic farts, as I do.
I had a sticker on my dashboard years ago, the one that says “CASH GRASS or ASS*. Nobody rides for free.” Usually, my friend Mario was riding shotgun, I didn’t smoke grass, Mario had no cash, and I certainly didn’t want his ass. So it wasn’t a very effective sticker.
*I did not select the one that said “GAS, grass or ass” because my friends always fueled up at the “Fill ‘Em Fast” (Whose unofficial slogan was “Fill ‘Em Fast with Cheap-ass Gas”). My 442 preferred something with Techron or whatever.
I was listening to the Larry Miller podcast, he was going on about saving soap slivers in the shower, somehow mushing them together to form a bar sufficient to bathe with. Apparently that is how they roll on the island of Milleronia.
Larry would be thrilled to have one of these Soap Banks. I found them in my dad’s old 1951 Jensen-Byrd wholesale supplier catalog. You just put your odd soap slivers inside, get it wet, and let the DuPont Cellulose sponge get nice and sudsy. That generation had endured the Great Depression and they were keen on saving money.
It’s week 7 of having a cast, I had gotten into an altercation with my yard waste bin, and sustained a fractured 5th metatarsal – They tell me it’s a common injury for boxers! Apparently I failed to float like a butterfly or sting like a bee.
Here’s what the next moron that says “OK Boomer” needs. And your mother says you can do your own laundry from now on.
These “Ripple” shoes probably were fun and different to wear, and maybe changed a person’s gait in a positive way. Years later, say 1970 something, my sister had some oddly wedge shaped heels on her shoes branded “Get There” that made similar claims.
I think that Ripple shoes were defeated by the same thing that killed “Waffle Stompers”…
I guess when your head hurts so bad that you can’t even stand the sight of a trademark stamp, you don’t care about side effects, but acetanilid will do a number on your kidneys and liver if you aren’t careful; it’s basically acetaminophen, and here comes the flu pandemic of 1917. Probably not a fun time to be a pharmacist either.