Rubbing It The Right Way

attentionAlrighty….
now that
I’ve got your attention.

I’m sorry…
I’ve been feeling
really randy —

Man, you got no idea.

(no knothole is safe right now)

— and I guess I haven’t been
taking it out on the readers
near as much as
I think I should be.a32

Umm…
wait,
maybe that sentence
needs a rewrite.

Or maybe this
whole blog does,
now that I think about it.

So, meh.

As I was saying before
I rudely interupted myself
by giving in, once again,
to my short attention span —

flower— about the only subject
that CAN hold my attention
for any length of time
is our general topic today.

Well, alright….
I guess I should narrow
it down a bit, huh?

I do love vintage
dirty paperback covers —

— the kind that were hidden
behind the counter so
you could see ’em,
but just barely —

if you were an adult –

(which at the time,lovecamp
I certainly was not)

and had some money –

(which at the time,
I certainly did not)

you could just mosey
on back there
real casual like,
and pick up two or three
of these literary gems.

Hey, for 75 cents,
you could get
cheap thrills galore.

Being a visual guyhoyden
that I am, though,
when I was able
to get my greedy
little hands on
one of these things,
I found the fact
that there were
no pictures inside
rather disappointing,
because the cover art
seemed to be making
promises that words,
any words,
but especially the
words found in thesewild
cheap novelettes,
just couldn’t keep.

Talk about
writing bad checks.

Still,
I managed to suffer through.

And I can now look back
with semi-fond memories
of hiding these things
and somehow always having
my Mom find em anyway.

Boys will be boys, ya know.

!!!!!! HOY !!!!!!

(for more on this subject,
see my post “Pulp Fantasy
on most of these channels. )

wow

Pin Ups and A Little Girls’ Memories

viHi Y’all.

This morning, my old
( and when I say old,
I mean ‘long-time’,
not ‘old’ like Driving
Miss Daisy, ya know….. )
friend Carolyn was
nice enough to send
me a previously unpublished
piece that she wrote
about her childhood memories
of her mechanic father —

— and the vintage calendar
pin-ups that he had apetty
hanging in his garage.

And, I thought it
would be perfect
for sharing with
all our friends
here on the
Muscleheaded Blog.

It brought more than
one sentimental tear
to this old man’s eye,
I can tell you.
And when I say ‘old’billmedcalf
in this case, well,
you know….

Anyhoo…
Here it is,
with a huge mucho gracias
to her for it:

::=====::

When I was a little girl,
I loved helping my dad 
work on cars in the driveway.

He taught me about
changing the oil,
replacing the wiper blades, a1
checking the battery,
checking the tires.

I really loved going to
the garage with him.I loved the smell of 
the gas and the oil,
all of the different tools, 

all of the different vehicles.

The mechanics
laughing
and talking,

while repairinggeorgepetty
and maintaining.

But, my very favorite
part was sitting
on the bench
in the office,
drinking rootbeer
from a bottle,

keeping company with
The Pin Up Girls.

I gave them names. harryekman
I told their stories.

.

Meri was December:
red velvet skirt,

crisp white blouse,
long bare legs,
big smile,
mistletoe sprouting from
her brunette pony-tail,
riding on the back of Santa’s bike,
helping him deliver all the presents
before the sun rose and
Mrs. Claus wondered why rake

he was so late coming home.

.

Julie was July:
bare feet, curly blonde hair,

short blue shorts,
barely-there striped yellow top,
more than a hint of cleavage,
stretched out in the
green grass relaxing,
remembering the cool
of spring, but not fazed,
in the least,
by the summer heat.april

.

Wendy was March:
walking her dog on

a busy city street,
on a blustery day,
not a care in the world,
dress billowing around her hips
revealing her stocking-covered legs
and black satin garter belt,
her grin revealing that she liked
putting on a show for the world.

.

Autumn was October: zenochbolles
surrounded by pumpkins,
hay stalks, and black cats,
silhouetted by the golden
harvest moon, her red hair
shinier than the stars,
her witch costume like
none I’d ever seen before,
she was a good witch,
not a mean one…
okay, well, maybe good,
with a little naughty thrown in.

.

Every year,
twelve different girls,
twelve different stories.goergepetty

Staring at the calendar,
dreaming of the day
I would have the looks
of a Pin Up Girl,
the attitude of a Pin Up Girl,
AND be the owner of the garage.

.

©CarolynS.WhenIWas
ALittleGirl.5.20.2003.

:: =============== ::

VIVE Les Pin Ups —
and my friend C !!!!!!!!

!!!! HOY !!!!!!!!

.

mec