Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Your morning dose of fugliness
Because I love y’all so very, very much.
Check out Ugly Dress.com, where you’ll find this and so much more. Don’t miss the Klingon Wedding or the pregnant prom dress. What’s your pick for fugliest attire?
In college, I bought a desk at a flea market. This desk contained a surprise — call it value added: a purple tie on which some wag had painted the head of a cow, or a bull, or in any case something vaguely bovine. The tie’s grease stains made it perfect.
I treasured that tie along with all my other great flea market purchases, such as the polka collection in glorious warped and scratched vinyl, Happy Organ.
Ah, my Happy Organ days. Picture it: dorm party. At one end of the hall, Pee-Off-the-Balcony Dale is bouncing off the walls, listening to The Kinks at top volume. At the other end, Russ I-Wuv-Punk Anderson is trying to crank The Clash and get the girls to pay attention to him, but they won’t, cuz he has that baby face and that forever-thirteen-years-old cracking voice. Then Floppy* opens up his dorm room door and lets the perennially joyful sound of polka lilt into the hall.
D.
*My nickname back then. Don’t ask.
Did you get beat up a lot in University?
Don’t ask? Don’t ask?!? Why did they call you Floppy, Doug?
NO, Maureen, I did NOT get beaten up a lot (not a lot, anyway). However, the most action I got while in the dorms came from the zaftig Andrea, dispenser of hugs on demand. Look depressed, ask for a hug, and you got it, baby.
Floppy? Well, it was a co-ed dorm, including the bathrooms, so —
No, sorry, this has nothing to do with my rather pedestrian endowment. I’m double-jointed, and no one can quite figure out how I sit the way I do without dislocating my hips. Add that to my mental floppiness (hint: Airhead was my other nickname), and the mystery is solved. Satisfied?
Hang on – the “beat up” comment was in reference to the polka music, not anything that may or may not flop.
Wow. That pic is… wow. Powder-blue, man. And that split-end-surfer-boy heair and the stoned expression on his face… wow.
Speechless. Will find appropriate snark later. Too busy laughing right now.
side note: so are we supposed to call you The Flop now?
Maureen: it flops on all of us. Side effect of the Y chromosome.
Lilith: call me anything you want, just don’t call me Doogie ;o)
My brother wore a tux like that to his prom. And I have the pictures to prove it.
It doesn’t improve with age. He learned the hard way that beer stains are easier to detect on the powder blue than on the black. He paid for that tux for years…
Your dorm sounds like mine. We got together on the Freak Who Wouldn’t Turn Down His Stereo. Put a door-sized speaker up against his doorway; no way out. At 5am, we pumped “2001: A Space Odyssey” at decibels that would make your ears bleed. He pinballed around his room, then opened his door just in time to hear the timpanies going BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM boom…he actually cried. Ah, the memories.
Well, our rocker dude flunked out after his first quarter — not surprising, given that he spent 100% of his time stoned, drunk, asleep, or some combination thereof. We never had the chance to take revenge, although flunking out is punishment enough.
Oh man! Did anybody checkout the ugly dress link? Whoa. I am speechless. Was she pregnant?
Pregnant and proud of it, Rae ;o)
[…] 2. World’s fugliest prom dress. Doesn’t have much to do with ‘thirteen,’ but it showed up on my thirteen search. Enjoy. […]