Corn palaces are not what they used to be

Handwritten page of a diary dated January 26, 1949

finally got some pictures developed and as it turns out, the house where he’s staying is even better than the way he described it. It looks like a house in a foreign country (which I guess it is, being in Italy and all) and he gets to live in it for three weeks. He wouldn’t even appreciate it as much as a person like me, who’s never once got to leave the state of Nebraska.

Once my grandfather said he’d take me to the Corn Palace in South Dakota. Then he said no because that one is not as nice as the corn palaces they used to have in Sioux City Iowa when he was a kid. So we might as well not bother with such a long drive. But now that he got a new Chevrolet Fleetmaster I hope he might change his mind.


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Published in: on July 30, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Sinatra beat me to it

Handwritten page of a diary dated July 24, 1966

Frank Sinatra is older than I am and he gets to marry the 21-year-old starlet of Peyton Place? I was just as good looking. I had the charming act down at an early age. I was just as good of a singer. But my timing was rotten. I came along too late and they didn’t need two of us. Just him. In the ’50s, I had people say that to me: ‘You look too much like Sinatra. You sure can sing, but it would be confusing.’

First Frank marries Ava Gardner of Hollywood and I marry Dorothy Miller of Bakersfield. Then Frank gets divorced and marries Mia Farrow and spends his Saturday nights eating and dancing at a swanky supper club with a cute little pixie of a girl who worships him. I get divorced and sit at home alone on Saturday nights watching Get Smart. If I were rich and famous, I could be dating the actress who plays Agent 99.


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Published in: on July 29, 2010 at 4:30 am  Comments (1)  

Fat sprinkles

Handwritten page of a diary dated April 20, 1994

because I didn’t have the heart to tell her my birthday was two months ago. Besides the cake looked delicious — even though I hardly ever like sprinkles — on anything. But these sprinkles looked good for some reason. And they were — they had some kind of good fruit flavor with a little tang. Not as tangy as Sweet Tarts — and not as powdery.

Then she said she likes the look when the four primary colors are together — and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that there are only three primary colors — green is made from yellow and blue.

Then she said next year on my birthday — after I get my driver’s license — I can drive us both to the Hampshire Mall for some shopping — but I didn’t have the heart to tell her the only thing left in that mall is one boring store and a tiny arcade with Mario brothers and a pinball game.


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Published in: on July 28, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

’80s hair back in the ’40s

Handwritten page of a diary dated July 30, 1988

constantly hounding me about my hair. Saying that my hairspray is going to ruin the Ozone layer. Saying why did my generation have to invent big tall hair?

Excuse me, I say. Hairspray was invented in the 1950s. Ha. And if I invented tall hair, how do you explain this picture of Grandma Rose with tall hair — taken in the 1940s? Ha.

Well, she says. At least your Grandma Rose didn’t use hairspray in an aerosol can. She used pomade.

So I looked up pomade in the dictionary. Which says “a perfumed oil to put on the hair to make it shiny and manageable.” Sure. I mean yeah. If you put oil in your hair you might get more shininess than you bargained for.


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Published in: on July 27, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Sleeping in stilettos

Handwritten page of a diary dated May 6, 1992

shouldn’t really be too envious because when she wakes up she always says she feels like “a steamin’ hot pile of poo left out to dry in the middle of the Mojave desert.”

But wherever she goes all dressed up like that, it must be fun or she wouldn’t keep going there. Right?


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Published in: on July 26, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Little breeze inside my mouth

Handwritten page of a diary dated April 10, 2001

… wicked windy today. Reminded me of days I spent with Uncle Chad. He had a sweet convertible. He used to drive all the way to Brattleboro to get a certain kind of juice he liked. He took me along because he said I needed some male bonding. I liked to feel the wind in my hair. Sometimes he said with my hair sticking up like that I looked like Mozart. I didn’t know who that was.

Along with the windy hair I also remember the wind whistling into my mouth where my tooth had fallen out.


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Published in: on July 23, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Yes you WERE less cool

Handwritten page of a diary dated November 28, 2007

After we watched ‘Mad Men’ i told dad maybe people at school would think i’m cooler if i dress like 1960 instead of 2007 but then he said i’m already cool enough. i said as i usually say to him you don’t get it then he tried to convince me he wasn’t cool when he was my age and i said yeah, yeah, yeah whatev. Seriously his family had a real backyard with a swimming pool and everyone says they had great parties there and if we had a party here in our apartment we could invite about three people if they all promised to stand up straight. He said if i promised to never ever speak of it again he’d prove that i’m now cooler than he was then and he went to his bedroom and brought me this picture. OK he wins because even i am cooler than he was dancing


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Published in: on July 22, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Aliens sucked the cow from the frosting

Handwritten page of a diary dated March 18, 1996

at least Tanya liked her birthday cake. She was pretty fascinated with the cow getting sucked up into the spaceship. She said that’s not how it happened to her when she was abducted, but she liked it anyway.


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Published in: on July 21, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment  

Helper monkey

Handwritten page of a diary dated February 23, 1994

Uncle Adam said they paid $18 for a small GOURMET pizza that coulda been made by a helper monkey.

I wanted him to explain what a helper monkey was, but I think he wasn’t sure, because he talked a lot but never really answered the question. So I looked it up and it said monkeys can help people and bring them stuff and turn the lights off and even wash their face — and they can turn the pages for people with no hands who want to read a book. Even though I have hands, I thought it would be fun to have a little slave. I thought about it a lot.

But then I found some pictures of monkeys, and they look too much like real people. I don’t think I could boss them around just so I could be lazy.


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Published in: on July 20, 2010 at 4:30 am  Comments (1)  

Damn the seventies

Handwritten page of a diary dated May 2, 1978

and if one more guy in a white polyester suit hits on me, I’ll scream. I haven’t even been to a disco since the music turned to crap a few years ago. So why do I have to run into guys who act like John Travolta, even while I’m shopping for food?

I don’t even mind staying home on Saturday nights, but there’s nothing good on TV. Love Boat and Fantasy Island? Come on.

To keep me occupied, Mom loaned me some of her old old romance novels, and then I found some more at a yard sale. I’m into them. A lot. I have to be careful though or I might start wearing bright red lipstick and tight sweaters over pointy-cupped bras.


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Published in: on July 19, 2010 at 4:30 am  Leave a Comment