YSaC, Vol. 947: Didn’t Rufus T. Firefly declare war on them?
2011 March 18
Nice Contemporanian furniture – $300
Great for Moderm Apartment, perfect shape.
Ah, Contemporania. Land of beautiful sunny mountains and snow-packed beaches. Possessed of a culture going back centuries, if not less, Contemporania is the perfect vacation spot for people who live in really nice places and want to be reminded of the fact. Take a rugged hike through the desolate wilderness, alone save for the eerie cries of the feral pot-bellied pigs. Or, enjoy the more metropolitan ambiance of the capital, where you can haggle to your hearts content on an ensemble of locally made Contemporanian furniture.
Thanks for the link, Sharon!
Contemporania, I think I discovered that place once after getting lost in Ikea… no wait, I’m thinking of Contemporomania.
Was it in a cabinet?
Chloe found Contemporonarnia!
As a Contemporanian-American, I am offended by this cheap knockoff of our proud artistic traditions, which stretch all the way back to the sixties. If you’re not going to do your moderm (or pachyderm) apartment in authentic Contemporanian furniture, you might as well just go with French providential made in China.
Here, Dave, you dropped these – [matt] [/matt]
[matt] Really? You should try being Symbionian-American. Not a day goes by that I don’t get Patty Hearst shoved in my face*. [/matt]
*It’s a very small country.
Even if contemporary was spelled correctly, I think Sparky just awoke from one of the deep freeze experiments they did in 1956.
“Take two turkeys, one goose, four cabbages, but no duck, and mix them together. After one taste, you’ll duck soup for the rest of your life.”
I have no duck.
What the duck?!
LimeLolly here may talk like an duck, and look like an duck, but don’t let that fool you – she really is an
duckanthropomorpic talking gecko.Give me five and ten
Why a duck?
Freedonia has no ducks.
Contemporania has too much furniture (apparently). One must duck the flying chairs when war is declared.
Hail, hail, Contemporania!
So you’re on the other side, eh? Well, what are you doing over here?
It was part of the Sanity Clause.
Oh don’t go bringing Christmas into this PL!
*nice hat
He sees you when you’re sleeping
He knows when you’re awake
He knows if you’ve gone off your nut
He’ll prescribe some meds to take
So…
You’d better not pout
You’d better not cry
You’d better not shout
I’m telling you why
EVIL DUCK WILL TEAR YOUR SOUL APART
:rocks back and forth:
Can’t sleep, Evil Duck will get me.
Little Known Fact:
Feeding ducks bits of bread at your local pond or lake is actually an initiation into the service of Evil Duck as well as an offering to him and his feathery minions.
Long ago, when Evil Duck first began to terrorize man by ripping apart the souls of men, women, and children while they slept, those terrorized by the fowl foul tried to rise up against his mighty duckiness. The uprising failed, or course, resulting in thousands of people left soulless (these would ultimately become zombies or politicians; occasionally both). Those who remained were forced to make occasional offerings to him and his minions in the form of leavened bread.
Over the years Evil Duck has been seen at these offering sites less and less often. It has been theorized that with the duck populations of the world on the rise, he simply collects a portion of each offering from his minions, rather than bother with such trivial collection himself.
Sated by these offerings, Evil Duck has seen fit to fade into legend and away from the public eye. However, the continued existence of zombies and politicians suggests that he still works behind the scenes. With the recent power politicians have secured for Evil Duck, handing him 99% of the world’s governments, it is all but certain that he will continue to rule our day to day lives with his Iron Pinion Feathers.
So remember, if your parents never took you to feed the minions of Evil Duck, it’s only a matter of time before you finally come to serve him… one way or another.
May our Dark Master forever shelter us beneath his black wings of villainy.
I, for one, welcome our new(?) Dark Duck overlord.
Other things that serve as initiation for our children:
Duck Tales: Evil Duck propaganda designed to impart the opinion that ducks are awesome.
Darkwing Duck: A positive, superhero version of Evil Duck meant to indoctrinate children.
Daffy Duck: Based on Evil Duck. The creator’s soul was torn apart when Evil Duck was first shown the character.
Donald Duck: A more true to life version of Evil Duck, though his anger is down-played with tantrums rather than the more true to life soul disarticulations.
Ducklings: The main workhorse of Evil Duck’s web of viliany. They are deviously cute in order to extort a greater number of bread tributes for the Dark Master.
Don’t forget Soul Disarticulation, IF’s all-duck Collective Soul tribute band.
I actually went to one of their shows. Here, I have a picture of them as they were heading off stage:
Soul Disarticulation
::melts from the cute::
I thought those were the Dixie Chicks.
Awwwww…
I didn’t know pure evil could be so fluffaliciously adorable.
Evil Duck
Evil Duck’s Wife
All hail fluffy little Hypno-Ducks.
Slightly-More-Evil Duck
Who was that masked duck?
*clicks links*
*expires from terminal cuteness*
GOOSE!
Goose with Minions.
Ah the Indifferent Goose. The only entity on the planet more powerful than Evil Duck.
Sadly when humans approached Indifferent Goose for help with their duck problem, he told them that they’d probably be fine and that, as a Goose, he obviously had more important things to do.
The dealings with Bad Horse during the same period went less smoothly.
And Nonchalant Cat was busy staring at dust specks and never got around to returning Evil Duck’s calls.
I’ve heard Explosive Rage Bull might team up with Evil Duck to make a buddy cop movie next spring; they just can’t decide who gets to be the bad cop.
Anybody wanna buy a duck?
Does it quack?
Of course it quacks.
(You skipped a line.)
I forgot how it went.. I’m old, what can I say?
Edit: A what?
Sure
Wanna buy a duck?
(Did I get all my lines?)
A what?
Which makes it all the more surprising that you missed the line – old people can’t hear very well, and are always asking “A what?” : P
Edit: Yes. : D Don’t forget to include Mudsy in the next round.
I’m sorry. Could you speak up? I couldn’t hear you. The ducks were making too much noise with all that quacking.
AR, Mudsy, I’m lost! What’s my line?
Why I am I holding this duck?
You got it. : D
I love this game!
At this point, I don’t think it matters anymore.
🙂
Mudsy, wanna buy a duck? 🙂
A what?
I like dust bunnies
I’m expecting Bad Horse to show up any minute now.
He’s bad.
Edit: Huzzah, I linked into text!
Contemporanian is soooooooo last season! Give me a good, solid, Extemporaneousian any day.
Oh, I know it’s a ratherimpromptu style, but isn’t there something comforting in coming home from a long day at work and plunking down on your soft extemporaneousian couch for a night of popcorn and “Dancing With the Stars”?
Contemporanian just can’t compare. I mean, what good is stark in a couch when that translates to steel legs, cold leather and no back?
I’ve always liked the supple curves of Neo-Expositionism, the way the subtle use of textures and color seem to tell you everything you need to know about the home.
You know, now that you mention it, I’ll take a supple Neo any day of the week.
O Contemporania!
Our fashionable land!
True artistic love in all thy chairs command.
With glowing lamps we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!
From far and wide,
O Contemporania, we snark on Sparks for thee.
Llama keep our site glorious and free!
O Contemporania, we snark on Sparks for thee.
O Contemporania, we snark on Sparks for thee.
(Anyone wanna translate this into French Canadian? :D)
I heard this in the tune of the anthem for Genovia.
Whatever floats your duck 🙂
Usually water but sometimes it’s butterscotch pudding.
I’m a fan of marshmallow fluff as aquatic avian flotation material.
“I’m a fan of marshmallow fluff
as aquatic avian flotation material.”FIFY
That brings tears of patriotism to my eyes every time I hear it sung.
Or maybe it’s Lyle’s terrible screeching* that makes me cry.
*I don’t know how you sing, Lyle, I’m just saying it’s bad for the sake of the joke…
I wish I could take offense to your comment… but even my son tries to stop me when I sing, and toddlers are supposed to like the sound of their parents’ voices. It used to make him cry, now he just repeats ‘Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy’ over and over until I give up.
Fascinating. So these chairs were built to exist in a wormhole connecting some particular date in the 1950s or 60s to present day such that when you sit in them, you are not only sitting in 2011, but also in the mid-20th century. You can watch American Idol simultaneously with Ed Sullivan, then maybe listen to your favourite CDs/45s in stereo/mono and admire your energy-efficient CFL track lights/leg lamp.
*adjusts glasses and checks a clipboard*
Yes. I do believe that is exactly what we’re saying here. The question at hand is are you willing to test pilot this couch or not? We still don’t know the full ramifications of this particular set of furniture. It will be a potentially dangerous mission. Can we count on you?
If so, I’ll need you to sign this waiver releasing us of complete responsibility for any damage to yourself or your taste in interior decorating.
Nuh-uh! I’m not going to be the test monkey for this. For all I know the other end of that wormhole is in Stalinist Russia and I could be captured as a western spy.
Send Mr. Winky in. Soviets would be too startled and frightened of him.
And if we’re lucky, he’ll be considered decadent and sent to the gulag. Good times!
In that case, I need one. I dabble in time travel as well as free lance philosophy and part time piano.
It’s been a while since I’ve studied the Platonic solids, but I’m pretty sure “uncomfortable furniture” isn’t one of them.
Well, now, I do believe — and records dating that far back are spotty at best, I’ll admit — that when furnishing scientists were first examining methods by which we as humans could transfer weight from our feet to our posteriors in order to rest, they had discovered that a slightly reclined “L” shape that sort of resembled two pieces of bread fastened at roughly 50° to each other where the seat was parallel to the ground was superior to and far more comfortable than the 20° wedge, the 45° L where the back was also tilted 60° to the right, and the backless stool design on a 25° forward grade. It was also found to be sturdier, more stable, and took up less room than the prevailing ass hammock design.
That’s not to say that everyone follows such guidelines, of course — clearly this furniture here tried, but clearly missed a few of the finer bullet points.
As opposed to yesterday’s rusty bullet indentations?
As there are no holes in this furniture, it must be assumed that they missed it entirely. Which is kind of a shame as that might have given this furniture some much needed character and street cred.
It’s nothing an angry badger and some spray paint couldn’t fix.
Or maybe some tasteful spinner rims and a little neon underneath.
Somehow I have a hard time reading ‘tasteful’ and ‘spinner rims’ in the same context.
Pimp My Badger!!!
Spinner rims and paddlefoot.
I. drive. a. clutch. car. go.
Stop. making. my. brain. pause. after. every. word. you. type. Mudsy. You’re. giving. me. mental. whiplash.
Then my work here is done.
😉
I get around town in a brown car, it’s brown.
I like to get around because my car is brown.
People always ask me how I get around town.
I get around town in a brown car, it’s brown.
It’s brown.
It’s brown.
It’s brown.
Mental. Whiplash. is.
very. easy. to. cause. if.
you. are. Will. Shatner.
I didn’t catch that – what color was the car?
I left my protractor at home.
The problem with Platonic solids is that, anti-Socratically, they are “perfect” in the context of geometric math. This does not well reflect the intersections of curves which are human articulations–which are a mix of parabola, ellipses, and hyperbole.
Even the simplest presumably right-angle articulations are not so. Case in point being the human knee. In a “neutral” position, the human knee ‘wants’ between 5-7º “more”; or 9-11º “less” rotation than a simple 90º bend. In addition, the distal 2-5cm of the thigh needs 2-5º of relief, or circulation will be impaired, creating discomfort.
A parabola intersecting an ellipse at approximately 90º will work nicely.
But, that’s not very Platonic.
Groping the back of of a person’s thighs is more Euclidian.
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
With seating from Contemporania;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Romania.
(with apologies to Dorothy Parker)
*throwing many doors for D. Parker reference*
Huzzah to Caro
One of the very first dogs I ever owned was a Contemporanian. Cute little bugger and he made a great pet; but he made an even better couch.
Y’Know, Contemporanians were bred from sled dogs. I just hope, while sitting on the couch, you never said “Mush!”
My friend growing up had a Contemporanian couch. One day his mother made him oatmeal but used too much milk. He asker her, “Eww; what is this mush?”
The couch took off at a dead run and we never saw him again.
Sad, but true.*
*Probably not true.
*sniffle*
That was so sad. Kind of like that story where the dish ran away with the spoon. I need some Skittles.
hands Mudsy some Skittles … don’t worry that there aren’t any red ones
I think Lola’s got about 20 of the red ones rolling around in the bottom of her flask.
Psychedelic!
Barcelona’s in Contemporania? Crap! I’ll have to learn a whole new language before I go on vacation!
It’s not difficult. Here are a few basic phrases in Contemporanian that will get you by without much difficulty:
Hello: Couch!
My name is: Couch (Name).
Where is the bathroom: Couch?
Goodbye: Chair.
Be mindful of where you are in Contemporania though, as different dialects employ different words. For example:
Hello (Lower Contemporania): Chesterfield!
Hello (Eastern Contemporania): Sofa!
Hello (District of Simultanea): Loveseat! (Note that Simultaneans employ tonal variants in their language, and as such you must be careful how you say a word. In this example, saying “Loveseat!” with an ascending second syllable means “Hello!” while a descending second syllable means “Your mother is promiscuous.”)
Bench!
The northern reaches of Contemporania have a different dialect that could be considered another language:
Hello: Ottorman
My name is: Prudential (Name)
Where is the batheroom: Mine Hors Chiwawa
I would like a beer please: OBO youprobablyit
Goodbye: Chesterdrawers
My hovercraft is full of eels. – Couchity-couch credenza otterman.
Pecil.
It’s actually easier than you’d think. In case you forget which word to use, most dialects of Contemporanian let you use “koo” as an all-purpose greeting, like “aloha” or “shalom.”
My bassinet is euphonium.
The tobacconist is full of end tables.
Bouncy-bouncy!
No Arm-War; I am Hungarian.
Olé!
**looks up at word “Euphonium”**
Huh? What’d I miss?
I can’t help but wonder if Contemporania shares some basic characteristics of Springfield. Is it a place that borders four states, none of which are anywhere near each other? Is West Contemporania three times the size of Texas, but not on any map? Do children never age (except in dream sequences) through more than two decades of the rest of the world marching forward? If Contemporania shares these characteristics with Springfield, then does Springfield share some of Contemporania’s characteristics? Does “modern” style in Springfield stay the same over the passage of several decades, despite the fact that it offers no comfortable lower back support, color choice, or adequate cushioning? Since Springfield is in an as-yet unidentified state, is Contemporania the capitol of [ish]? Or is it a suburb of [location]?
Yes.
I’m getting a weird feeling that Contemporania is merely a state of mind and not a physical location. Like Zen, you must spend hours in meditation (or medication, as my spellchecker tried to insert) on uncomfortable furniture in order to achieve a state of Contemporania that you strive for.
If you spend that long on the furniture you will probably need some medication. (Or a chiropractor.)
Sarajeanbethmelody, your avatar is unseeable to me today. Are you lost in a blizzard?
It should be there. I can see it.
*tries refreshing a number of times, throws computer out the window, tries again* There you are! Weird.
I see it too. Perhaps the blizzard is on your end, Lyle.
I can see Melaninbechamelanvil’s avatar just fine.
BethMelonyDogPhoto, I can’t see it either. It’s intermittent.
Oooh, I’m a ghost!
I see
dead peopleghost cats!Contemporanian
Tres modern!
Cuuuuuute!
Very cosmoporanian.
How can I tell if my apartment is Moderm?
Check under the fridge for microvesicles.
Do you have this furniture? No? Then no, your house is totally not moderm.
Wait, you’re suppose to put furniture *inside* the house? What about appliances? I may have to move some things in from the porch….
Just as long as the bike curio cabinet is in the garage!
But I put the bike curio cabinet in the bathroom. Because of the mirrors.
Nonono!
You furniture should stay on the porch
where I can use it in the dead of night for unsavory thingswhere everyone can admire it!😉
Teehee.
Hmm, prefix “mo” means many or method.
“Derm” is skin or hide (even peel, by extension).
So, should “moderm” furniture have a number of slip covers, or should it be vegetable rinds?
Ask the Moderm squad.
I’d rather ask the Moderm Squid.
-Regards,
Peggy Lipton Soup
Are the cockroaches smoking cigars and eating the fancy cheese and do the dust mites refuse to snack? You might have a moderm apartment.
Do the vases refuse to hold anything but hydrangeas? You might have a moderm apartment.
Does the key to the lock require a fingerprint to activate? You might be a spy.
Are you required to battle Rodents of Unusual Size to reach it?
You might be the Dread Pirate Roberts.
ROUS’s? I don’t think those really exist.
I once saw a possum at night and was convinced it was a ROUS. Some frantic googling for “giant urban rodent” clarified things, but the cat still didn’t want to go out there.
Then can I interest in a lovely resort in the picturesque Fire Swamp? Year round camping and you never need to bring firewood.
Lola – If you live in a rural enough area the damn things will come right up on the porch and eat your cat’s food, all the time hissing at you while you try to hit it with a broom.
::releases ROUS to bite Lyle’s shoulder::
SJ: I lived in a small city upstate at the time, albeit near a park, wherein the aforesaid ‘possum probably lived – when it wasn’t climbing up the fire escape to the second floor apartment window where my neighbor had food out for her cats. The first time I heard it up there chowing I could not believe what I was hearing. It was one floor up but the sound carried clearly through the open window and it was the snortiest, obviously-chewing-with-its-mouth-openest borderline-caricature-of-someone-eating-rudely that I have ever heard.
Our basement neighbor, who is not afraid of many things, put on some heavy work gloves and went up and was able to grab it by the tail and carry it out and into the park upside down. As he was taking it “home” he was downwind of it and said it was exceedingly fragrant in an unappealing fashion. A couple of weeks went by, and then it was back.
Sounds about right. When I was younger and we had a lot of outside cats there was always one or three hanging around looking for food. Smelly lumps of waddling mean-and-nastiness, every one.
*uses her leet ninja skills to avoid ROUS… smacks into pole*
It’s “circle-square-square-right-right-left-triangle-smiley face” not “circle-square-square-right-left-left-triangle-smiley face”.
Ahh, but did you avoid AR’s shoulder-bite? Because that’s how I parsed the phrase…
The return from Contemporania
Dorothy repeated the words “there’s no place like home” and clicked her heels:
*CLICK – CLICK*
Suddenly her head began to spin and her vision blurred. Dorothy started to fall forward. She reached out and was able to support herself on a low counter top in front of her.
Her vision cleared, and she found herself looking at a burly man standing behind the counter. He had uncombed, greasy black hair and a huge black mustache. He wore a full-length white apron, and was spattered from head to foot with crimson drops that Dorothy presumed was blood.
The man pushed a small package wrapped in white paper across the counter toward Dorothy and said, “Here you go Missy – one and a half pounds of Toto. At three dollars a pound, that will be four dollars and fifty cents.”
Dorothy stared in horror at the neatly wrapped package. The Wizard’s words resonated through her head:
“Repeat the words ‘there’s no place like home’, and click your heels three times, Dorothy.”
THREE TIMES, DOROTHY!
OH. MY. GOD!
There is no sales tax in Contemporania?! I’ve been a sucker and keep buying all my ground Toto here in Wisconsin; paying 6% sales tax like a chump.
Gads I’m such an idiot!
Ground Toto? Ewww….
I’m reporting you to the Lollipop Guild. They’re delicious!
I have a sudden craving for hot dogs.
Hulk Hogan-style?
Hold the noodles; add cheese, mayo, garlic salt, diced onions, and chili.
Dammit SJ. That actually sounds pretty good.
I’ll see you all at my coronary bypass!
That’s good eatin’ right there. The onions make it slightly healthyish.
Never mind the mayo, and you don’t need the onions or garlic salt/powder if you made the chili with them. Just a big ol’ hot dog with chili, topped with shredded cheddar, colby, and/or pepperjack. Diced jalapenos optional, and diced tomatoes add a nice bit of freshness.
I think I know what I’m having for dinner tonight.
I like the bite that raw onions and/or extra garlic gives even if there are some in the chili. I may have to pick some hot dogs up on the way home.
“Baja tacos”–need the good bun-length eight-to-pack wieners.
Then some good fresh white corn tortillas; black beans, shredded red cabbage, a good chipotle-mayo, then salsa to your taste. Use the cheese you got (presuming it’s the kind you like), but Oaxaca and Asedero are spiffy.
For some freaky-fun fusion though, take some of the 1/4# dogs and cut them half (shorter, not split down the middle). Mash up some left-over black beans, add in some chipotle en adobo, and give the dogs a good coating. Make up a nice masa batter with beer instead of water using the tamale recipe. Wrap the dogs in the masa mixture then either skillet or deep fry. Serve with a chilie con queso–it’s a corndog that’s also not quite a corndog, too. (Note, do not try to but cheese on the inside–LFMF–it will melt and leak out and not be fun <sad faces>)
tsk tsk. Gotta take the noodles. When in Rome and all that.
Couldn’t I just cuddle with them for a bit and then call a cab when they pass out?
OT,
Found in the spam filter on my website…
Not sure why that got marked as spam.
I’ve told you many that your main website all ever going with but not have got webpage to of.
That’s what I ough too of.
Nothing very interesting in my site’s spam filters yet. So far…
From a bot with a link to download what is probably a well virused-up version of Frostwire:
wat…
And from “Larraine Zabala” with a link to some URL with random letters and numbers in it that reads like a violent sneeze:
Admittedly, the poetic use of “ne’er” was a nice touch.
Contemporanian furniture has a two martini maximum. Any more than that requires armrests.
Or just push them together, then you can lie down without having to fall on the floor first.
… or seatbelts and helmets.
And no Bloody Marys allowed. Tomato juice stain *never* comes out of white upholstery.
…except with Oxy-Clean and a little help from the ghost of Billy Mays….
Ectoplasm will just make the stain set. Keep all ghosts away.
Dammit.
What about Shirleys?
Shirley Temples? No, none of those either. Grenadine stains.
Dr. Rumack.
…you can’t be serious.
I am serious, and I don’t belong to Shirley.
Archie, I think you just gave me the cultural breakthrough that I’ve been wondering about. Namely: how did we get from the Eisenhower ’50s through the Mad Men mod early-’60s to the Summer of Love? It wasn’t hippies and drugs rebelling against repression. It was cocktail culture and armless furniture! Things just all got a bit horizontal after those three-martini lunches and suburban cocktail parties in Cheeverville. The original slogan was “Don’t trust anyone under30 … they can’t hold their liquor.”
Lola, I have a song just for you…
Madam Librarian
What can I do, my dear, to catch your eye
I have these Contemporanians, Madam Librarian…
It’s been stuck in my head all day and I had to get it out of there!
Uh, thanks, Hammy!
*wonders how to return or re-gift unexpected gift*
I think a song mentioning Contemporanieans needs to have a “Parental Advisory” sticker … especially if Hammy writes it and it refers to his. 8)
I know this to be true, Lola. In the 50s and 60s, the Eyebrow parents threw quite a few cocktail parties at our home with all the neighbors on the court present. At one such event, a guest took a tumble and ended up with a chipped tooth.* This necessitated either issuing a football helmet to all guests henceforth or a revamp of interior design centering on pre-OSHA furniture styling. Thus, a new trend was born and the rest was history.**
*this may be true
**this may not be true
[ot] I laughed through tears writing this comment. Two weeks ago, I lost my beloved Papa Eyebrows. He lived a long and robust life and was a gentleman through and through. He instilled in me the value of integrity, perseverance and humor. We went hand in hand during much of my journey through life…learning to walk, running down the beach, walking down the aisle, at the birth of my daughter and at the passing of my mom and, finally, during his last breath. Appropriately, he left just at cocktail hour…no doubt to meet up with mom for a martini. [/ot]
Hi Archie. Your story about your parents and their parties took me back to my parents in the 60s and their similar parties. My dad always gave me an olive out of his martini. I can still taste them. So sorry for your loss.
I’m sorry to hear of your loss, Archie. May his martinis henceforth all be doubles, cold, and never need refilling.
My condolences. It sounds like he did good work raising kids, too.
I too am sorry for your loss, Archie. He sounds like a terrific man.
I extend my condolences to the Eyebrow clan, dear Archie.
Sorry to hear about your pappy, Archie. Both of my parents are still alive, though I haven’t seen my mother in nearly 25 years. She was never a big part of my life anyway, and though I did hear about her early this century, it was about her sending a nasty letter about how bad a mother my grandmother was — while my grandmother was in a retirement home in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. I kind of disowned her at that point. My dad’s always been the constant presence in my life anyway though, so I am thankful he’s still around, and probably will be for some time yet. He’s stubborn. 🙂
So sorry to hear about your papa, Archie. You have my condolences.
Thank you, friends, for your heartfelt expressions of sympathy. I’ve always considered that I hit the jackpot with both my folks in the parental lottery. I will always miss them and consider it great good luck to have had them in my life and in the lives of my children for as long as we did.
I am glad to know, Archie, that you recognized the treasure you had in your parents. I hope those happy memories lift you up. Deepest sympathy and virtual hugs.
Dittos on the virtual hugs and sympathies, Archie.
Confession time: I own a very similar couch. It’s a reddish brown and has three positions much like a futon. In my defense, it goes with my broke student decor.
This couch doesn’t seem to have any positions other than “flat”.
Oooo, do you have a coffee-table spool, too? That’s total college-chic right there. Mattress on the floor because you have no bed frame? Milk crates for nightstands? Your closet is a cardboard box, isn’t it? Some random dude living on your couch? Mr. Enthusiastic running around in boxer shorts and Mardi Gras beads?
I’ll stop now.
With the exception of the random dude, that sounds a little like my place. 99% of the furniture was stuff my parents had around the house and the other 1% is the climbing tower I built for my cats out of old kitchen cabinets and scrap lumber.
[matt!]
You People! Really, you know that Sparky just misspelled!
Everybody knows that Contemptoranian is the logical response to the Franch Perversional style!
Really!
What? Speeled how? Oh, never mind.
[/pseudo-matt!]
[architectural & design corey]
Ah, such were the days of my youth, when the practical utility of Danish Modern was usurped by the beginnings of post-modern, even while still in the rebellious throes of Modernism.
To have all of the hip, exclusive style get enthusiastically made mainstream in science fiction use–hard to protest the inhumanity of 50’s conservatism with your furniture if your guests just adored how they used your furniture in 2001: A Space Odyssey . . .
Now, what really doomed this style of furniture was the miniskirt. One thing to be daring and bare a great deal of leg–quite another to flash an entire room.
[/corey]
Punchity Punch Punch, Sarajeanbethmelodyannetteetc. Yeah, it’s no frills and a repeat, all in one.
G’Night, Freedonia!
LOL.
Sorry, LLBethMelody! I blame it on the Kahlua malt that I sucked down before posting that. The check is in the mail. No returns on holiday items.
I don’t mind getting the credit and someone else getting hit. I think SJ must be down to one or two teeth now. Git ‘er while she’s down!
:tries to hits LL with crutch, falls over:
I’ll get you once my bones grow back together.
Ummm… Did I miss the part where I was in the box? It looked like LL was in there with Dave and the ferret.
I think Windrose is discriminating against mustelids.
Luckily Dave never checks back here. The ferret, now, he’s probably upset.
Oh, sure! Point out that once upon a time I consumed kaluha malts and made mistakes about who had been in the box. It all got worked out in court, so stop bringing it up! I paid my debt to society and now live a sober life in Contemporania.
(another 12 hours later)…that sounds yummy…kaluha malt and tacos…”Supper’s Ready”…
This gave me acid redux and a migrainoranian…
Is that the one where you can lift things with The Force, but it makes your head hurt?
Sofa, so good.
Glad you could make it, Ralph. 8)
(Twelve more hours later) nojazzie, you have to leave the box. I’m sorry, I know it’s Monday out there and the box is warm and safe. But you have to take your khalua malt and go! Punchity Punch Punch!
Good Morning, Mrs. Teasdale!