LMNOP

This Is Why It Is Important to Save Every Piece of Paper You Have Ever Touched

We had a fun suprise at our Thanksgiving table yesterday; my mom had reached into some magical vault and found placecards we'd all made for Thanksgiving many years ago. We estimated them to be from about 1991-1992.

Here's mine, featuring a turkey, a pilgrim, and what appears to be a flaming witch's cauldron. I apparently had some confusion going on about holiday imagery.

My older sister Kelly's was indeed very minimalist and Kelly-like. I am assuming there was a corresponding piece of green pasta glued to the bottom-left corner that has since fallen off.

Kate's features a turkey enjoying a lovely stroll under some clouds. We were arguing yesterday about whose turkey was better--mine or hers. Feel free to comment and confirm that mine is.

And then there's my brother's, which has no artistic value whatsoever. Just like my brother. (Zinggg.)

There were also placecards for my parents, although we couldn't remember which kid made which.

My forensic analysis upon closer examination is that the handrwriting on Mom's matches Kelly's and the legs on Dad's turkey very closely resemble those on Kate's, so those are the likely artistes.

I'm guessing Real Simple magazine will not be suggesting holiday placecards made by eight-year-olds in the '90s as a decorating idea anytime soon, but these really made our day. Good job, Mom!

Unfortunately, the Slammers Are Long Gone

And now, a page from my old POG binder that I found in my parents' basement this weekend when my mom as making me clean out trash:

My Very First Book of Racial Stereotypes

This past weekend my Mom made my sister and I go through some boxes of old dolls and papers she's been keeping in her basement since we were kids.  I was particularly excited to come across my old sketchbook, and as I was poring over those very pages upon which I honed my now famous (-ly bad) drawing skills, I found this lovely depiction of The People of Our World:

You will note several important things:

1. My drawing skills have not improved since 1991.
2. People from France and China have no hands.
3. People in Africa wear toilet paper.
4. Hawaii is a country.
5. Mexican people's arms are thicker than their legs.

Crude though they are, I like to think that these pictures do reveal an important truth about the human race: People everywhere are fundamentally the same--no matter what country they're from, they all have feet that point in completely opposite directions.

Kid's Got Skills

These are authentic Chuck Taylors from when my dad played basketball for UMass in the 1970s.

This is my brother Sunday after he watched the CBS sports special on Pete Maravich and was inspired to find those Chuck Taylors, plus some hideous short shorts and our oldest basketball, and recreate the magic of the era of Pistol Pete.

This is the resulting video, which will bring you one step closer to understanding my family (make sure your speakers are on):

I mean, that's got to explain something, right?

Oh, You Know Damn Well I've Got the Fever

Cabin Fever Day is supposed to signify the fact that even though we are all probably really tired of winter, we should remember that spring is just around the corner.  That actually did nothing for me, so I decided to take a different approach: I pulled some Tinkertoys out of my famous basement and made me a cabin.  In the picture below, the middle structure is the cabin.  The thing on the right is a tree, and the thing on the left is a flower box.

Now I'd like to anticipate and address some of the reader reactions that this cabin will induce:

1. [The Average Person] That sure as hell does not look like a cabin to me.
2. [The Astute LMNOP Superfan] Wow, that really reminds me of Lauren's other feat of construction, the world's shittiest gingerbread house.
3. [Kelly] OMG! I totally made the chimney, the tree, AND the flower box  for the cabin and she didn't even give me credit for it!

More From the Basement

Well, these were in the garage, but that's sort of just a continuation of the basement in terms of the content it contains.  Recognize these?

They're the basketballs they gave away at Pizza Hut for the NCAA Final Four at some point in the early-to-mid-'90s.  Mint condition, no less!

From the Parenting Section of our Basement Library

This was one of those great books where every example pointedly featured a person of a different race, complete with extra-ethic names and hyper-exaggerated facial features:

I can just see the nurturing parent explaining this to his child.  "See, honey?  It's OK to be afraid.  Look at this overly caricatured Asian boy who's afraid of falling down the crack between two buildings!  He's scared too!  You're not alone!"

From the Basement: An Artifact of My Political Career

My Inner Monologue
Mrs. Durfee's Computer Class, 1995

Crap.  I spent all period playing Oregon Trail and that game where you try and sell plants and I totally forgot that I needed to make some posters for my Student Government campaign.  Well, I still have three minutes.  Let's see what this Apple IIe is really made of.

[Furious typing]

Ahhh, sweet.  This is gonna win it for me.  I am sooooooo clever.

Introducing: My Basement

Earlier this week I alluded to the forthcoming debut of a new category involving my basement.  At my house, we don't throw ANYTHING away.  We just put everything in the basement.

Seriously.

Everything.

For example, the basement is where we keep our old ice cube trays:

Because, like, you never know when our automatic ice-cube maker will be outlawed and we will have to revert back to using the trays but--horror of horrors!--we will not have the three dollars necessary to buy a new set.  Problem solved.

The basement is also a delightful source of '80s nostalgia.  Behold, the My Little Pony Sewing Machine . . .

. . . And the Garbage Pail Kids folder!

Glorious.

The basement is also a fail-safe source of things that make you wonder who would have ever needed them, let alone now.  Like, say, two copies of this book about Christopher Columbus:

Let me know if you are interested in a copy.  The illustrations are top-quality, quasi-colored slices of magic . . .

. . . And the text is revisionist history at its best:

Oh!  Is that what Christopher's mom said?  I always wondered.

Well, I think you're starting to get an understanding of what this new category is about. 

And seriously, let me know if you want one of the Christopher Columbus books.

Planned Enhancements to LMNOP This Week

1. New masthead
2. Updated, non-ghetto "About" page
3. Debut of a new and fun category involving my basement