The Goofiness Of Girl Scouting & Catalogue Shopping Over The Years

November 17, 2015November 17, 2015 / Ally Bean / 30 Comments

• Never would I have figured out that I’ve lived a lie all these years if I hadn’t stumbled upon the mother lode of Girl Scout-ness, a website filled with images of all Girl Scout catalogs ever printed.

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I’m torn about what to buy. I want the Middy and Bloomer outfit for when I jump rope, but am equally desirous of the Zip-On Suede Jacket which allows me to hold a squirrel on my arm. [Catalog 1931B]

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• Perusing these catalogs I remembered that in my jewelry box I had my official Girl Scout membership card showing me to be a member of Heritage Trails Troop 239.

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Although yellow has never been a flattering color on me, I’m taken with this apron, covered in proficiency badge designs, that would ensure I looked pretty as I worked around the house. [Catalog 1952S]

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• My pin, the official jewelry of all Girl Scouts, was stolen when thieves burglarized our house when I was in sixth grade. However, the thieves left me my card. Jolly good of them, wasn’t it?

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No problem deciding what I want in this catalog. I’ll take a reversible caper cap and a pair of flashes to keep my knee socks up. [Catalog 1973]

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• Looking at my Certificate of Membership Card, I see that I never signed the thing, which clearly states: “Not valid without signature.” Obviously I’ve lived a falsehood when I say I was a Girl Scout.

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Well, look at that, will ‘ya? I never signed my Girl Scout Certificate of Membership Card. Such a free spirit I am, even back then.

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• The shame of not doing my best is almost too much for me, and confirms I don’t have the right to shop for any of the above items. Pity that. I just know I’d look fetching in that apron, while wearing flashes on my socks and a squirrel on my arm.

We Didn’t Fit In, But We Had A Good Time: Go Bucks!

September 29, 2015July 1, 2025 / Ally Bean / 21 Comments

If you go to OSU, the only red that counts is SCARLET.

On Saturday afternoon we joined our closest 105,000 “friends” and went to a Ohio State football game. The game was in Ohio Stadium, aka The Shoe, which is on the National Registry of Historic Places. It is located on The Ohio State University main campus, which is in Columbus, OH.

The Shoe was packed.

After exiting from the highway, getting to our parking place, which was beside The Shoe, was an adventure in dodging ~~drunk~~ psyched fans, driving hither & yon on surface streets– and highlighted by a bomb squad checkpoint.

We passed.

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Gray, however, is GRAY regardless of your OSU allegiance.

Then getting to our seats on a box level, accessible via huge dual-door elevators, turned into a lark. Fortunately the arena’s staff kept us laughing all along the way, as we two confused outsiders tried to find our box.

Very pleasant people.

The OSU marching band, aka The Best Damn Band in the Land, did script Ohio, which I maintain is the real reason anyone goes to these football games. And the home team won. So all was good.

Yay football.

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Here’s my takeaway:

Every person who attended this event, except us, was wearing team colors, scarlet & gray. I MEAN EVERYONE. And though no one dissed us for not having any team merchandise on our bodies, I felt odd about it.

I’m not one to wear showy clothes, nor have I ever felt comfortable in team apparel, so despite wanting to be part of the group, I couldn’t bring myself to spend monies on any of the ~~over-priced~~ shirts, hats, shorts, sweatshirts, scarves, et cetera, that were available for purchase.

This wasn’t a problem, but it’s an observation that marketing has taken over the game. Meaning that looking the part of a fan is now as important as, if not more important than, being a fan.

This reality made for a visually weird overly enthusiastic-looking crowd of people wearing, what they hoped was scarlet but in actuality was multiple shades of red, emblazoned with the iconic Block O.

Fans? Perhaps. Followers? Definitely.

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Pedicures & Color Possibilities: A Husband Weighs In

August 27, 2015May 6, 2021 / Ally Bean / 30 Comments

The Compete Cutex Manicure, 1933 via The Vintage Site

I only asked him as a courtesy. I didn’t think that he’d have opinion, but he did.

And it surprised me.

I’d sorted through my bottles of nail polish, throwing out shades that I hated or bottles with lids that no longer opened. I was left with 5 shades:

Houston We Have Purple by OPI [dark dramatic shiny purple]
From A To Zurich by OPI [dark maroon]
Strawberry Margarita by OPI [bright bold pink]
Incognito by Dior [neutral beige-y medium pink]
Nail Glow by Dior [sheer pinkish purple that makes nail tips look white like a French manicure]

So there I sat, on the screened-in porch, trying to decide which of the above colors I was going to put on my little piggies. About 90% of the time I wear the Dior Incognito because it’s classy and goes with everything.

I repeat, everything.

But Zen-Den was out there on the porch with me, too. So I asked him which color he thought that I should wear. And the color he picked was…

Of Chips & Buns, Making Small Talk At The Dinner Table

August 25, 2015 / Ally Bean / 27 Comments

I. The scene

Zen-Den and I went to dinner at a Tex-Mex place. Sitting there at our table, me sipping a frozen Texas Twister, him drinking a Dos Eqius, waiting for our tortilla chips to arrive, we got to talking.

II. The Subject

Thinking about the recent news story that I’d seen that day, I asked Zen-Den what he thought about man buns. Specifically, the man buns of Disney.

I figured that the sports babble radio guys who he listens to during his daily commute would have had something to say about man buns. But apparently they’re not as aware of male hairstyles as one might hope.

Zen-Den had no idea what I was talking about.

III. The Conversation

He asked: What kind of buns? Ones that you eat?

I said: No!

He said: Buns with your hair? On men?

I said: Yes, the ones on your head.

He asked: Like granny buns?

I said: No, not like Granny Clampett. More like sumo wrestlers.

He said: The guys are fat?

I said: No. I don’t think so. Maybe some are. The photos show thin guys.

He said: There are photos? Where?

I said: Online. In a blog or something, I think. I read an article.

He said: So these thin guys pull their hair up and twist it into a bun?

I said: Yes!

He said: How?

I said: I don’t know. It’s just up there. Maybe with a scrunchie? Or bobby pins?

He said: Why do they do it?

I said: It’s probably a thing like being a hipster with your hat. Or those “git r done” guys with their shaved heads. It’s cool, I guess.

He said: Why?

I said: I dunno. Because men are stupid?

He said: That’s true… that’s very true.

I said: I’ll send you the link to the article.

He said: Nah. I don’t want to see it. Sounds weird. That’s why I like listening to radio. I don’t have to see any pictures of stupid men.

IV. The Conclusion

The conversation ended when our server brought us fresh homemade chips and salsa. They captured Zen-Den’s attention, so he was no longer interested in cross-examining me about man buns.

I stopped talking about them, but will admit that I enjoyed watching a middle age business guy struggle with the idea of men wearing their hair in an up-do… just because they can.