When I was a wee lad at South Park elementary school in Moberly Missouri USA, I loved Raquel Welch. I carried a black and white picture of her that I cut from a magazine..
She was in the news because the “suit” she wore in the picture above sold at an auction for one million dollars. Among other items of hers. Read the article HERE.
She died in February a year ago. Just the memory of her is worth a million bucks to me!!!
Have a great day!
A week from now, I’ll be in St Louis Missouri USA. A week from today some high school friends and I will make the 4 hour drive from St Louis to Moberly Missouri, where I went 3 out of 4 years high school. (graduated in Maryland) Next weekend is my 45th high school reunion.
45 years , dang! School itself was only 12 years.
Have a great weekend!
When I was in the Navy, my ship went in the drydock. During that time, we the crew moved into barracks. We needed to get back and forth from the ship to the barracks and I became a US Navy School bus driver! That was fun!
At first, the bus seemed huge, but after a while, it became manageable and I was zipping around, changing lanes, backing it into parking spaces and it became easy and fun to drive.
After I got out of the Navy, one of my first jobs was with a scale company, and that involved driving a large truck loaded with test weights to repair and calibrate roadside truck scales. That was a fun job too! Big boots and huge giant wrenches and crowbars. 500 pound test weights, dirt n dust and toughness! And the funny thing, the truck was about 200 pounds overweight! I knew it though. If i ever got weighed, I’d pull the truck onto the scale and try to jump out of the cab before the weight could be read. Depending on fuel, just might make it by! And the operator always knew why I jumped out too!
And there’s yer first flashback Friday in a long time!
Have a great weekend!
I heard a funny (kinda) story this morning on the BBC. I looked it up and found the article HERE. A woman parked her car in Washington DC, took a picture (above) to remember, but couldn’t find the parking garage after her and her daughters appointment.
Finally, she had no choice but to give up and head home, carless.
she posted her dilemma on social media and people all over began searching for her car. Finally it was found, with the finder posting a selfie with the car.
I had a similar situation at a concert in Baltimore. We lost our driver. I found the right parking garage and empty parking spot, but no driver or car. I had to call my father who drove an hour from DC and pick me and two drunk girls up.
Everyone was drinking 151, except me, I was drinking beer, luckily. My date was puking in the bathroom, the drivers date seemed relatively ok, and was giving me a play by play about the happenings in the ladies room. My father picked us up at a bus station.
What a night! Ted Nugent and Starz.
We might be getting some rain…
Have a wonderful day!
This is a picture of me from about 1997 that someone, a great friend, sent to me yesterday.
I like this picture, it seems I remember seeing it when it was new.
The ol’ moustache…
Happy Friday and have a good weekend!
https://markd60.com/flashback-friday-second-grade-hell/
Above is a link to a previous Flashback Friday. Second Grade Hell. I just found a picture of that school, East Park, in 1918. Gross. At least it’s been torn down now.
Look at that frikkkin’ place. What a haunted house. I have no recollection of the outside as a whole. Just brown bricks.
I remember seeing the movie Bambi in a theater with my Mom. I especially liked Thumper.
I remember being shocked when Bambi’s mom died.
I was 3 or 4 years old. I thought the movie was for people much older than me, and that I was too young to be exposed to such horrific violence.
It’s a cloudy day. It’s supposed to clear up this afternoon though.
My mother in law arrives this evening. That’s good!
I’m starting to get the annual Christmas fear. What am I going to buy? How will I pay for it?
It’s Friday! Have a good weekend!
What do you get when you take the insides out of a hot dog?
A Hollow weenie!
How come the skeleton was afraid to cross the road?
He didn’t have the guts!
Ha!
Happy Halloween!
This post doesn’t mean I’m not feeling great. It is inspired by a post by Candy’s Daily Dandy yesterday.
GLAD IT’S FRIDAY!!!!
In first grade, I liked school and I got A’s. Then we moved half way across the country over the summer.
In second grade, I got bussed to this old, nasty school. I hated it especially because there was a new school very near my house.
My second grade school was all brown, brown bricks, brown wood, walls and floor, brown desks. Everything seemed dirty and stinky and unsanitary. I remember sitting in my nasty brown desk, trying not to touch the desk or anything at all, except what I had brought from home.
I remember there was a secret panel in the hallway (I shit you not) and at lunch the secret panel was opened and it led down to the dungeon/cafeteria. It was white-green florescent lights in a windowless stinking hellhole. I didn’t want to eat any of the food because it seemed dirty and unsanitary. And the dungeon smelled like nasty food, steam, and dirty dishwater.
When I got home from school, every day my Mom said I stank. I knew it was from that dirty nasty school. She didn’t seem to believe me when I said how bad it was.
My teacher was Miss Bolware. To me she was a disgusting filthy hag. When she first saw me she gave me a hug, and I hated being touched by her. She didn’t stay nice long, she would yell and grab you by the arm and whack you with her filthy brown ruler. I hated it when she touched me with her nasty old witch hands.
I felt trapped, and I couldn’t run away because I was seven years old and didn’t even know where I was, just some nasty place on the other side of town. I lived in that town for ten years and I don’t think I ever learned where that school was. I don’t remember ever seeing it again. I was in Junior High School before I saw any kids from that second grade year again.
From third grade on, I went to the new school, walking distance to my house. But I never got good grades. Second grade is probably what destroyed my relationship with my parents. I didn’t get good grades in second grade, and I got punished. Then I figured that if I started getting good grades, my parents would think their punishment was effective, so I didn’t get good grades, and was more or less in a state of constant punishment for bad grades till the 11th grade, (when I had a teacher I had a crush on, Mrs Berry, I got A’s in her class!)
Incredibly, we then moved again and I went to 12th grade and graduated from a different school. The idea crossed my mind that maybe we moved because I got some good grades again, but I didn’t really think that. But I got crappy grades in 12th grade too, just to be safe.
One year later, when I turned 18, I joined the navy, and got out of my parents lives as much as I could.
Hurricane Michelle didn’t come too close to the Cayman Islands, but we got big waves. I was living in an apartment about 100 feet from the sea and the waves started coming up to the porch. I was trying to nail some plywood into the concrete to cover my sliding glass door, when a huge wave came up. It was easily neck or head high to me, standing on the porch.. I was kind of in the corner of the porch, and as the wave wrapped around me, I put my back against the wall and tried to dig my fingernails into the concrete and not get swept out to sea. I was moving towards the two foot dropoff at the edge of the porch when the water started going down. My feet hit the floor again and I looked to my right and saw a waist high river of water coming out of my apartment where the sliding glass door was. I saw a cardboard box flow out the river. I was getting ready to grab it when I see the nose of my kayak start to come out the door. (I had put it inside because of the hurricane) My dog Ditto was standing on the kayak. I let the box go and grabbed the kayak instead.
My apartment and everything in it was smashed. The bed was smashed, the bookshelves were smashed to splinters. All my books and my computer was destroyed, as were a lot of my CDs. My tool box had saltwater in it, and I didn’t know it for a few days and the tools were ruined.
The cardboard box that floated away had, among other things, my dive log in it, and it was there I lost track of my number of dives. That logbook was number 19, of my scuba log books I had filled up diving at that time. Anyone who knows me knows I log all my dives, and I always have.
In the apartment, you could see how the wave came in at an angle, bounced off the wall, hit the kitchen, lifted the refrigerator. (I found my underwater camera UNDER the fridge). Then it went in the bathroom and you could see like a whirlpool pattern in the wreckage. The glass dinner table was in a million pieces and the wave busted the window unit air conditioner out if it’s hole in the concrete wall. All the windows were broken and the window frames were ripped out of the concrete. There was glass everywhere, and if it had happened at night when I was asleep, I probably would not have survived.
It washed the tiles off the floor.
Hurricane Michelle is the hurricane that broke open the Turtle Farm. Before the big wave, all my neighbors and I were picking up turtles and putting them in the bathtubs. It was a nice, sunny day. Huge giant sea turtles were crashing ashore in the waves, breaking their shells. These big ones were so big that only one would fit in the bed of a full sized pick up truck.
I had insurance, but got ripped off bad. For Hurricane Ivan, I had much less damage but I was ready for the insurance sucker punch to the stomach and I didn’t get cheated, like everyone else did. (All the insurance companies blatantly ripped everyone off and then changed their names after Ivan)
I was the only one who stayed in the apartments. But things kept getting worse. The landlord was fixing all the apartments except mine. There was no tile on my floor, just black glue. Ditto was getting sick, and slowly getting covered in glue.
One Saturday, I couldn’t take it any more. I went to my office at work, made a cup of coffee and sat down with the paper in the cool air conditioning. I found one apartment, made one phone call, went and looked, and moved into the apartment. I stayed there six years, and it was the apartment I had before I moved into this house.
And that’s my Flashback Friday. Have a good weekend!!!!