peachyteachy

For realsies

Pinball Wizardry circa the 1980s November 3, 2013

Filed under: advertising,art,gaming,humor,life,toys — peachyteachy @ 7:46 am
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In this, the season of gratitude (which, yes, should be every season), I am moved to remember and give thanks for an awesome gift from a bygone era: the Firepower pinball machine.

Imagine the grandeur of unlocking the MULTIBALL function—five balls released at once! The adrenaline! No amount of Swedish fish swimming across the screen could ever compare.

I was a freshman in college, and this was the last hurrah of the pinball years.  It was already competing with arcade video games.  Pacman was arrogant as hell. Firepower was pure.  It even talked to me! Its deep, computerized voice said things like, “Firepower,” and “Firepower.”  I believe that it even said, “Fire.” Heady stuff.

The beloved machine lived in the lobby of my dorm, and I think that I may have been in the minority of girls who liked that machine.   My guy friends and I frequently combined Firepower play with mind-altering substance play.

This is the point at which I should wax nostalgic about a “simpler time.”  This was the time of Reagan and the Talking Heads.  Nothing about that seemed simple to me, even though I know that many think of that time as historically halcyon.  A little hazy Firepower play took the edge off the fact that there were things called “Young Republicans” running around, poised to start their careers and define the ME Generation by their ME salaries.

I may have to write a grant to have one of these installed in my classroom.  I will update you on the Kickstarter campaign.

Oh, and don’t forget–

I remain, proudly,

YOU ARE A WINNER - 150 12X12

image:https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=1-QYAinczA0rNM&tbnid=nOa67tkaoUtfWM:&ved=0CAQQjB0&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.bmigaming.com%2FDiscontinued%2Fdiscontinued-pinball-machines-ff.htm&ei=oTl2UsXeJauh4AO22IGgAw&bvm=bv.55819444,d.cWc&psig=AFQjCNGYkz7-EfdyzIsxJQLS9pdzxtD0aA&ust=1383566007020354

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Clearly, I Have Been Wearing my Aprons All Wrong August 14, 2013

I am a fan of vintage ads, and of antiquated, chauvinistic sacred writing of yesteryear.  Isn’t everyone?

 

Therefore, I highly recommend that you check out the vintage illustration-packed article, “Ridiculously Bad Advice From the Nineteen Fifties,” from Glo, an online publication that is kind of stylish, and which has notified the free world that big hair is, once again, in.  Great news!

For the record, I do not wear aprons.

 

Peachy and the Purple Pedicure July 27, 2013

Meet Peachy’s Purple Pedicure.

This is about as close to a “selfie” as you are ever going to see here.  Besides, I read a snotty piece of advice on some snotty piece of social media that no one wants to see your location by seeing your toes in the foreground.  Rebel that I am, I take that as a challenge.  I may even take a beach one, just to be beachy about it. It is ever-so-slightly artistic, seeing as how the pedicure is such an ephemeral event.

 

Here, Peachy’s Purple Pedicure plans dinner.  Don’t worry, no food was foot-touched.

Finally, Purple Pedicure pumps iron.

It’s no garden gnome, but it’s not a fish face in the bathroom mirror, either.

 

Even When the Sun is Not Shining, Spinal Tap Delivers July 3, 2013

hydrangea hosta fernMy garden is happy, because there’s been a lot of rain, and I am here every day to take care of it.  Some of my favorite stuff in the gardens are the foliage color and textural compositions.  These mobile images that I emailed to myself do not want to become larger within the post.  Apologies to my far more accomplished photographer/readers–advice graciously accepted. If you could see them better, you could see a lacecap hydrangea, a Japanese painted fern, and a little hosta called Golden Tiara up there.  Below, ferns are growing through a weathered bench.  I love that sort of thing as well. Shoot me, though, if I cross the line to wagon wheels and toilets planted with flowers.  I’m whimsical, but not that damned whimsical.

bench

I freaking love flowers.  I am also a big fan of container gardens, especially ones with different things going on. In the blue pot below, I have these gorgeous Lemon Gem marigolds–they are so much greater than run-of-the-mill marigolds, because their foliage smells lemony, and the flowers are edible.  Amazing.  The big leaves are those sweet potato vines—I dug them out of the pots last fall and saved them over the winter.  It took awhile, but they are taking off now, which makes me absurdly happy.

marigold

Happy July Third, flower people.

In a slightly related note, I would like to propose that a new tradition be launched, in the spirit of the annual Thanksgiving playing of Arlo Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restaurant.”  July third listening of Spinal Tap’s “Listen to the Flower People” starts today! Share with your friends! Here we go.

 

Report Card Comments: End of Year Survival Report July 1, 2013

I wish that I could have included this video somehow in the final report cards of about eight of my students this year, because this pretty much captures their learning this year.  Eight kids who are making and shooting “paper hornets” on a daily basis has a pretty profound impact on the hygiene and learning of a classroom.  I believe that I have mentioned my students’ impressive ability to crease paper more effectively by spitting upon it.  They do not possess an overwhelming generosity of spirit, but they are really quite selfless when it comes to giving up and dispersing their saliva.

If you are new to Peachy’s report card comments, you may be picturing a pale suburban clientele, in which case you would be sadly misled.  Aren’t they adorable?

My class is a bit less enthusiastic. And if they all put their hands up like that, people would be losing consciousness within seconds. We don’t encourage that nonsense. No, mine are more like this:

But let’s get down to it—the bane of the educator’s existence.  The comments.  The comments I tackle here will tend to revolve around students for whom the teacher scratches her head for minutes on end, just trying to come up with one small piece of insight that offers a suitably hazy filter.  You don’t need any guidance to come up with comments for that class up there. . .Well, maybe that one with the Christmas bow in her hair.

We try to include some tidbit of data—this is really for the administrators, as parents really don’t have a huge interest in that numerical food by which we live and die.  Thus, in our nicely laundered comment, we may say something like this:

El Capitan is reading 120 words per minute.  He has mastered his multiplication facts through 5.  El Capitan should continue to read challenging chapter books and practice skip counting daily this summer.  Good luck in sixth grade!

Truth:

El Capitan can sound out words but has no clue as to the meaning of what he reads.  This is especially apparent when he constructs “paper hornets” under his desk during reading tasks.  Although you have been unable to penetrate the force field surrounding the school this year, I have learned that the library is four steps away from your home, and people are permitted to borrow and read books from there. They have a lot of them.  Also, my dog can skip count by fives.  Step it up. GOOD LUCK in sixth grade. 

Slightly altered from reality:

LaShaw’na has demonstrated an interest in graphic design—this, combined with her expanding vocabulary, have resulted in a colorful social studies project during this marking period.  LaShaw’na has also developed a unique note-taking strategy.  Read, read, read! Good luck in sixth grade, LaShaw’na!

Truth:

LaShaw’na embellishes her textbooks, her desk, her pantlegs, and her arms with the proper noun, “Bitch Ass.”  She consistently spells “Bitch Ass” correctly!  I am guessing that this is the given name of an older relative, first name “Bitch,” last name “Ass.”  It would be fantastic if Bitch Ass could spend some time reading with LaShaw’na this summer, as she tends to stare blankly when asked questions such as, “What happened in that last sentence we read?” Good effing LUCK next year!

Made up niceties:

Dennis has an affinity for physical fitness, the fine arts, and for word study.  I am confident that he will make his mark on middle school! Good luck in 6th grade!

Truth:

Once, Dennis said the word “wheat” (pronounced “hweat”) three thousand times in the space of fifteen minutes. He has launched a small business selling transparent tape sculptures of zombies, and has clean-and-jerked a large table.  These activities have proven to be slight obstacles to learning, as the words get blurry when one is sprinting past the classroom door.  Remember, snack is not provided in the In-School Suspension room at middle school.  But the lunch is equally delicious! GLI6G!

Teachers everywhere, have a lovely summer.

 

Now THIS is Corned Beef! March 17, 2013

1932 Libby’s Corned Beef Ad ~ Recipe File, Vintage Food Ads (Other).1932 Libby's Corned Beef Ad ~ Recipe File

As I prepared to embark on the corned beef and cabbage pilgrimage, I was pondering how very difficult it can be to make corned beef actually look appetizing.  Is it any wonder that the above version hides out inside a can until the cash has been exchanged?

Settle down; I am not serving canned corned beef—just because I like Jell-O doesn’t make me that scary and misguided.  However, I am considering departing from the unfortunately named “Boiled Dinner,” and opting to make some nice crispy roasted potatoes, rather than sending them to bathe with cabbage.  If St. Patrick is that offended by a little olive oil, I don’t know how he could have affiliated himself with the Vatican.

Just in case you haven’t bothered (lazy reader syndrome) or can’t (NEEDS readers syndrome) read the copy on the ad, I have to quote some of my favorite portions:

“Everybody’s happy when the mastermind that plans the menus remembers Libby’s Corned Beef!

The family rejoices! Families have a way of being pleasingly outspoken in their approval of this mild corned beef—mild, yet rich-flavored.

She rejoices—the mastermind, that is.  Nothing to do but chill the can in the ice-box, then slice the firm, tender meat.”

Moo0-hooo-ha-haa! The menu mastermind strikes again! Cabbage, schmabbage! We’re having peach halves with maraschino cherries as our side dish! Excuse me while I go and slice that firm, tender meat.

 

Treasures of Somebody’s Yard July 24, 2012

You know this guy, right? He’s a leaning cowboy, and he is wall art.  Please do not parade your racial insensitivity and call him a black cowboy.  I saw this guy hanging out on the wall of a garage out in the middle of nowhere.  Predictably, there were other examples of very sophisticated yard art displayed in close proximity, the combination of whose spinning power might very well supply enough energy to run the garage beer cooler.  I can only guess that the owners had recently returned from Windmill Con.

Perhaps the most impressive piece on display stood proudly opposite our friend, the leaning cowboy.  He looked something like this, except that, like Tex, he was nailed up on a white wall. 

As you can see, the long, feathered headdress suggests a stereotypical Plains individual.  I may have neglected mentioning the fact that these folks were spotted neither on the Plains or in anything that could be considered “West,” unless the year were 1786.  Another curious feature of this arrangement was that the native gentleman and the leaning cowboy were not created in the same scale, resulting in the appearance of slight dwarfism on the part of the “chief.”  Is it just me, or could this be viewed as problematic?  Are the enormous Monarch butterflies that surround them on the wall supposed to help to bridge the gap between them? Methinks that one would need at least giant hummingbirds to accomplish that.

Really hoping to see this conversation coming to the forefront of the election, by the way.

image– http://i.ebayimg.com/t/NEW-Lawn-Art-Yard-Shadow-Silhouette-Standing-Chief-/00/$(KGrHqQOKiQE5E+qdbvEBOV7o8Ilfg~~60_35.JPG:

 

 
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