Somewhat dearly departed: MilkShake candy bars

For the life of me, I can't remember what the MilkShake candy bar tasted like beyond it being a little like a Three Musketeers bar. But I remember liking it pretty well. Apparently there was a strawberry version as well.

So, remind me. Did it taste like a milkshake? From the description, it sounds like a superordinary, not-discontinued-but-still-tasty-and-available Milky Way bar.

Shooby doo lang lang

I woke up this morning with a memory of my mom singing The Carpenters. Yes, The Carpenters, that treacly, smiley duo who gave us the immortal (and by immortal I mean really, really awful) "Calling Occupants from Interplanetary Craft."

I don't remember my mom singing that, but she did use to sing "Yesterday Once More."  Some of my happiest car memories are of my super-cute, frosted-haired, mini-skirted mom singing to me in her little red 1968 Mustang. (The little red Mustang looked like this, for you car geeks.)

We played radio station KUUU 1590 AM Seattle as we tooled around in the 'Stang. The station has changed call letters several times over the years, and tragically, it's now a conservative talk station. But back then, it played stuff like The Carpenters. And like a cheesy family movie, we sang along. At least, Mom and I sang. I'm pretty sure Dad, being tone-deaf and rhythm-deficient, didn't sing, and my brother was just a baby in his (probably useless) car seat, waving his arms and smiling.

I'll now destroy any musical credibility I've had with you, my dear readers: I like The Carpenters. Karen's voice shimmered--don't tell me she couldn't sing. And she was a fellow LBHG, too. Give a listen and offer Karen's spirit some love.

*Beep* turn the page

Forgive me for the delay in posting. The LBHG has not-little injuries to both her Achilles tendons and is slowly rehabbing them so she can walk again.

Once upon 1974, a little brown-haired girl was playing storybook 45 rpm records on her orange Fisher-Price record player. *beep*

A beeping sound indicated when she should turn the page. *beep*

And she had many joyous times listening and reading and listening for the *beep*.

And she saw that this storybook record sells for $125, which made her happy. *beep*

And so she lived happily ever after until her Achilles made her cry.  *beep*

Weird 70s flip books

You already know how much I love 70s stylin'. Check out this book for a great example. Look at her hair!

You flip the pages up or down at the point of the spiral binder, so you can create lots of weird combinations of different pictures. Here's another flipped version.

Love how psychadelic and weird this is. Has anyone else saved one of these? I can't find examples of them anywhere.

Old Seattle TV: King 5 brings teh sexeh

I got a kick out of this old King 5 news promo clip.

First, Jean Enerson could wear that orange blouse and and chunky necklace and still be in style today. Wow. Not sure what that says about today's fashion. And Jean Enerson, still on King 5, doesn't look much different.

Then later, about the obviously named Seattle Tonight Tonite (yes, it was really named that. Seattle hipster irony did not exist in the 70s, apparently)….uh…is it me or is Dick Klinger trying to be sexy? Keep watching and listen for the music, which is also trying to be sexy. It somehow manages to be funny, though, rather than sexy, but that could be my inner snarkstress rearing her snarky head.

My mom will kill me for telling you this, but she thought Dick Klinger was hot.

Watch it here.

You may celebrate in slow motion

Join me in a joyous dorkdance and order your Bionic Woman Season 1 on DVD today.

What, your memory is hazy about this splendid series about a 70s chick with the coolest mid-mod house ever, great hair, and a bionic dog named Max? Let me refresh your memory.

Amazingly not departed: Tri-chem "paint"

One of the dorkiest craft ideas ever is amazingly still around: Tri-chem. I bet your mom had a case of these little metal tubes of "paint" that she used to create spectacularly stupid dish towels with streaky drawings of owls or puppy dogs. I bet she tried to make you do Tri-chem, too, insisting that you Need a Hobby and it's a Fun Thing We Can Do Together. Or maybe that was just my mom. (I love you, Mom, but even you did this crafty stuff reluctantly.)

I get acutely uncomfortable on the rare occassions I need to visit a craft store. I think it's the smell of middle age dorkdom that wafts past the silk flowers and cheap candles. Or possibly it's that craft stores remind me of my own inadequacies as a crafter, an anxiety which can perhaps be traced to childhood Tri-chem frustration. It's all your fault, Tri-chem! 

The little metal tubes with their ball-point tips never seemed to give much paint, and what little paint you squeezed out never seemed to go on smoothly. Tri-chem was marketed as liquid embroidery; you used a metal frame to hold the material while you filled in pre-stamped pictures. I remember feeling frustrated and annoyed and not even liking the finished product, which did not resemble embroidery at all.

Check out this awesome picture of a Trichem party--like a Tupperware party, but even more lame. Trust me when I say our finished creations didn't look nearly as good as those in the picture.

Tri-chem has been rebranded for today's hip craftsters (are there really hip craftsters?): listen to the plucky little score and watch the video on their website. The paints are probably better formulated now and I'm sure the patterns are less cheesy. But I'd still probably create only streaky craftbarrassments.